


zero to sixty in three-point-five

by stephbethallen (orphan_account)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Dialogue Heavy, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury, basically everybody's here at some point, but not for a while don't worry too much, i tried - Freeform, it all escalates very quickly, just a sliver of angst, paramedic ukai suffers the most in this story due to stress over these idiots, probably horribly OOC
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:40:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25328683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/stephbethallen
Summary: season 4, episode 2, 18:30— "tanaka just got run over by nishinoya!"orcampus EMS meets the only IM volleyball team that's taking it seriouslyorasahi and noya embarrass themselves over and over and over again until they get it right.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Azumane Asahi/Nishinoya Yuu, Eventual Tanaka Ryuunosuke/Shimizu Kiyoko, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, Takeda Ittetsu/Ukai Keishin, Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Comments: 36
Kudos: 53





	1. accidents happen

**Author's Note:**

> this will be fun
> 
> no seriously. i want this to be fun. if a few characters have to suffer a little bit along the way, then it's a necessary sacrifice. 
> 
> enjoy enjoy

Noya was having a great day. He really was. He got his physics midterm back and he _passed_ . The lunch they were serving in the dining hall was actually _good_. The intramural volleyball tourney is just around the corner, and today he had a few non-volleyball friends express interest in watching. Then, perhaps best of all, the incredibly attractive guy in his economics class smiled at him, albeit shyly, and agreed to a coffee date when Noya asked. 

Then it went to shit. Very, very quickly, it went to shit.

Noya was driving his car down the street to his apartment complex off-campus. He and Tanaka, his roommate, shared the car, and Noya liked to think he was a better driver than the buzzed-haired dude. Then again, literally _anyone_ is a better driver than Tanaka, so that’s not saying much.

Anyways, Noya’s bumping down the road, bass blasting so hard in the tiny sedan that it’s rattling the back window ominously. He whips it into the parking lot and rolls down his window as soon as he sees Tanaka outside fiddling with his bike lock.

Noya shouts over the bass, “Yo, Tanaka, guess what just happened in Econ!” 

His roommate snaps his head up immediately, grinning but squinting. “Hey! What? Turn down your music, I didn’t hear shit!”

Noya doesn’t turn down his music. Instead, he pulls the car in closer to park it next to the sidewalk, where Tanaka is running toward him. “I said I had something awesome happen—“

Noya is interrupted by a bloodcurdling scream from his roommate and feels his veins fill with ice as he realizes what his car just did. Bump-bump—just a tiny bit, a little tremor under the forward right wheel.

Did he just…?

“Holy _fucking shit Noya oh my GOD MY FOOT!_ ” Tanaka yells. “ _Jesus_ fucking _CHRIST!_ ”

“I—SHIT! Tanaka, did I just run you over!?” Noya jumps out of the car, then jumps right back in when he realizes he didn’t put it in park. “Shit! Shit! Are you okay?”

“Does it _look_ like I’m okay, dipshit!?” Tanaka screeches from the concrete, hands hovering over his left sneaker. A bit of blood seeps through, staining the white leather. “I literally got these shoes _last week_ and now they aren’t _fresh_ anymore! You bastard, these were expensive!”

Noya jolts as he gets out. “I mean your _foot!_ I don’t give a damn about the sneakers! Is your foot okay?” 

“No! It just got run over!” Tanaka’s face is screwed up in pain.

“Why are you guys so loud all the damn time—oh. My God.” The sound of Daichi, their next-door neighbor, fills the parking lot. “Did you just—“

“...Tanaka just got run over by Nishinoya,” Suga, Daichi’s boyfriend who hangs around their apartments enough that he should pay rent, observes, voice flat. Then it suddenly raises in pitch. “Aah, oh, God. Daichi, call an ambulance. Tanaka, are you—can you even _feel_ your foot right now?” 

“I’m fine, Suga, really. Just mad about my shoes,” Tanaka grumbles. He moves to stand up, accepting Noya’s arm for help.

“Oh, hell no. Stay down, relax for five seconds, _please_ ,” Suga says, prying Tanaka’s hand off of Noya’s forearm and forcing him back down to the concrete. 

Daichi, phone pressed between his shoulder and his ear, gives them a stern look while explaining _My friend’s foot just got run over_ to the operator.

“Tanaka, shit...I am so sorry,” Noya nearly explodes while apologizing. 

“It’s okay, dude, seriously, it just startled me at first. It doesn’t hurt that much now, really, I dunno why those two are freaking out.” Tanaka gestures to Daichi and Suga, both fretting over the foot in question and debating whether they should take his bloodied shoe off. “But you are buying me new AF1s.”

“Absolutely.” Noya nods vigorously. “God, Tanaka, I feel awful about this, I was so careless.”

“Stop feeling awful. I’m literally fine.”

“He’s only figuratively fine,” Suga murmurs, rubbing Tanaka’s shoulder in a motherly manner, which Tanaka doesn’t resist. “Tell me how it happened.”

“I wasn’t paying attention and whipped the car into the parking spot too fast,” Noya winces.

Tanaka puts a hand up. “But I was running toward him, so…” 

“Jesus.” Daichi puts his face in his hand. He looks like he’s about to deliver a long speech to them, but he shuts up when the sound of sirens approaches.

Noya felt some relief—this way Tanaka could get checked out, and hopefully, they’ll confirm that he hasn’t injured anything major. He’s fine. It was just a millisecond of his tire on Tanaka’s foot. And now some professionals are going to check him out, and it’ll be fine.

All— _all_ —of that relief gets sucked up and replaced by complete embarrassment and horror when Noya sees the EMT hopping out of the back of the ambulance. 

No fucking way.

The hot guy from his econ class is clutching a duffel of medical supplies and has a stethoscope slung over his shoulders. He exhales sharply, pushing a piece of stray hair from his falling bun out of his face.

_Hot._ That’s so _hot_ , holy...

He pauses when he makes eye contact with Noya. Noya straightens and probably squeaks, because now Daichi, Suga, and Tanaka are staring at him.

Hot Econ EMT Guy—what even was his name? Noya is not functioning properly—steps toward them, kneeling next to Tanaka. “Hello, are you Ryuunosuke Tanaka?” He asks, voice husky and _way_ too sexy for Noya to be around.

Tanaka nods, eyeing both Hot Econ EMT Guy and Noya warily. “That’s me.”

“Great. I’m Asahi Azumane, that’s my partner Suzuki,“ he introduces, gesturing to the other guy already examining Tanaka’s foot. _Asahi_. That’s right, he said his name was Asahi. “The dispatcher said your foot was run over?” 

“I ran him over. By accident,” Noya blurts out.

Asahi looks at him, head cocked, then gives a very small, uncomfortable smile. “Well, at least it was only his foot. Let’s load him in, we can continue examining it while we’re on the way.”

He and his partner help Tanaka limp over to a stretcher, to which Tanaka grumbles, “Don’t need a fuckin’ stretcher or a fuckin’ hospital. I gotta go to volleyball practice.”

“You play volleyball?” Asahi asks, clearly trying to divert Tanaka’s attention.

“Yeah. We’re all on an intramural team.” Daichi, the team’s captain, frowns. “You’re not going to practice, Tanaka.” 

“Fuck you,” he murmurs in response. “Our next tournament is in five days and, no offense, Cap, but I’m your best wing spiker. I need to be in practice.” 

Asahi, who had cut back his shoe with shears and was palpating the purple and red foot gently, says, “It’s not really my job to diagnose you, but I can go ahead and tell you that you probably won’t be in the tournament. You’ve definitely fractured your first metatarsal and maybe a few more, judging by the bruising.” 

“Well. Shit.” Tanaka slams a hand on the black vinyl stretcher, frustrated to hell and back.

_Great job, Noya. Now we’ve lost our ace._

“But foot injuries typically heal pretty fast. You’ll probably be fine for the playoffs next month,” Asahi reassures.

His voice is so soft and caring. (Noya would like to hear him say _Yuu_ in that voice.)

Tanaka perks up. “Wait, how’d you know about the playoffs? You play volleyball too?” 

“I used to, freshman year. I had to stop when I joined campus EMS since I couldn’t devote enough time to the team then.” 

This is an interesting development. Noya likes him even more now. 

Tanaka nods, encouraging him. “What position did you play?” 

“I was the ace, actually,” Asahi says quietly, slightly bashful.

“Damn! You must have been good if you were ace your freshman year!” Tanaka’s all hyped up now and seems to have forgotten the whole ambulance situation like a child handed a lollipop at the doctor’s office.

“I was okay, I guess.” Asahi shrugs it off, instead focusing on lifting the stretcher full of Tanaka into the ambulance. His partner helps him, but in reality, it’s Asahi doing all the lifting. His arm muscles ripple underneath his uniform. Noya tries not to squeal.

Once the stretcher is locked into place in the ambulance floor, Daichi clears his throat. “Um, we’ll follow you guys.” 

“We’ll try not to run anyone over— _ow_ ,” Suga teases, then winces when Daichi elbows him and drags him by the hand to their car. 

Noya buries his face in his hands for a second, trying to compose himself, but Tanaka’s bright voice punctures his eardrum. “Hey, NASCAR, are you gonna keep me company or are you gonna mope and feel sorry for yourself until I get back?” 

“I—yeah, coming,” Noya climbs into the ambulance, sitting down carefully on the bench against the steel wall. He frowns when he examines Tanaka’s pain-squinched features, the wrinkles around his eye and the veins popping out on his neck. “Dude, you look like you’re in so much pain. Hold my hand.” 

Tanaka’s hand shoots out to hold Noya’s. “Thanks, bro.” 

“Don’t thank me, this was my fault in the first pl…” Noya trails off when the engine roars to life and Asahi jumps in the back with them. 

Asahi sits down on the bench next to Noya. “Uh, the hospital’s only about five minutes from here, so just hold out until then, okay, Tanaka?” His hands fidget in his lap. Noya could almost swear Asahi is _nervous_.

Why is he nervous? 

“Yeah, ‘s fine.” Tanaka squeezes Noya’s hand a little harder, then looks at him and grins. “Hey. What were you trying to tell me when you pulled up?” 

“Huh?” Noya flinches.

“Something ‘awesome’ had happened to you in Econ,” Tanaka elaborates. 

Asahi’s head flips around to face Noya and they both look at each other— _really_ look at each other. There’s an expression on Asahi’s face that Noya can’t name...panic, almost, but mixed with amusement of a sort. Asahi recognizes him, that’s for sure. 

“Uh, well.” Noya cuts himself off, then looks right at Asahi. “I’ll just be straightforward with you. If you don’t want to go out now because you’ve seen how I just ran over my best friend, then I totally get that.” 

Asahi gawks at him, baffled, then regains some composure. He tucks the errant strand of hair behind his ear again. “You said it was an accident. I’ve seen a lot worse.” 

“Wait, you guys know each other?” Tanaka’s voice raises a semitone. 

“Well, I met him today,” Noya answers Tanaka, then looks to Asahi. “I, uh, I dunno how else to say this, but I really wanna go out with you. Really.” 

“Wait a damn minute, is this the ‘awesome’ thing that happened to you in Econ? You met _him?_ ” Tanaka squeaks. 

“Honestly, I was kinda looking forward to it. If you still want to get coffee and...sort-of study tomorrow, then that sounds fine.” Asahi smiles softly, and Noya could swear he’s blushing. 

“Oh my God.” Tanaka throws his head back and laughs, nearly squeezing Noya’s fingers off. “You asked this guy out in Econ, and he’s the EMT who has to rescue me after you run me over.” 

“That sounds about right,” Asahi confirms, smirking and hiding giggles under his hand like a schoolgirl. 

Tanaka looks at Noya and he can just _feel_ his face burning in embarrassment. “This is _poetic._ Getting run over by you was so worth it to see you blush like that, holy shit.” 

“I…” Noya tries to defend himself somehow but comes up empty.

“It’s okay. You have my blessing to go out with him,” Tanaka says smugly. “He’s a hot piece of ass.” 

Asahi turns almost white, then a deep shade of red.

Noya tries to take control of the situation. “T-tanaka, you don’t even have any pain pills in you yet, you have no excuse to—” 

Tanaka rolls his eyes. “Noya. You have been _staring_ at him ever since he got here. Daichi was physically uncomfortable seeing you that horny.” 

“Can you shut up?” Noya snaps. He can’t believe this. Asahi is _literally_ right there, looking clearly uncomfortable, and Tanaka is purposefully embarrassing him. “I...am so sorry for him. I don’t claim him. I don’t know him,” Noya stammers out to Asahi.

Asahi, who was now decidedly as red as a tomato, manages to let out a short, choked laugh. “It’s fine. It’s really fine.” 

“I—things like this usually don’t happen. To me. I’m usually pretty smooth. I—” Noya stops himself when Tanaka jerks his hand. “I should shut up.” 

“Honestly, I was having a pretty boring shift before this, so it’s fine.” Asahi shrugs stiffly. He changes the subject, asking, “So...uh, Noya, are you on the intramural team too?” 

Noya relaxes slightly. Volleyball he can handle. “Yeah. I’m the libero.” 

Asahi sits back for a second. “You’re the—you’re the libero? The ‘Rolling Thunder’ libero?” 

“That’s me.” Noya lets his pride leak out a bit.

Tanaka laughs. “His reputation precedes him, huh?” 

“I mean, yeah. I just really respect you. I came to the tournament last month to cheer on my old team and I thought you were...great,” Asahi fumbles slightly on that last part. “I didn’t realize that was you.” 

Noya tries to say something, but his breath catches in his throat. _He’s seen me play. He thought I was great._ All he can manage is a nod. 

“Shit, you guys should just let me off if you’re gonna moon over each other,” Tanaka laughs. 

Noya ignores Tanaka’s quip and regains his composure. “Thanks, man.” 

“You’re welcome.” The Hot Econ EMT Guy smiles again. “So, your other friends, they’re on the team too?” 

“Yeah. Daichi—he’s the one with the massive thighs—he’s our Captain, a wing spiker, and he lives next door to us. The other guy’s Suga. He’s the Vice-Captain, he’s the setter, and he’s Daichi’s boyfriend,” Tanaka explains, gesticulating vividly. Noya has to laugh at his description of Daichi. “Our other two are these freshmen, Tsukishima and Yamaguchi. Oh God. They’re so gay for each other, it’s _painful_. Tsukishima’s a pretty insane middle blocker, and Yamaguchi’s a middle blocker and our jump floater too. It’s a solid team, even if we’re slightly dysfunctional.” He smiles, then puts his hands on his hips proudly. “I’m the only straight one!” 

Asahi seems to ignore that last comment. “Cool. I’m sure you guys will do great at the playoffs.” Asahi grins at them, but his eyes drift to Noya again. Noya tries not to die inside, but something in him snaps once more. He might be trembling.

This is not normal. Noya picks up girls and guys with so much ease usually. Why is this difficult? Why did one look make his insides mushy? 

“Well, uh, we’re here,” Asahi breaks the silence, gesturing out the window to the hospital entrance as the ambulance decelerates. When it comes to a stop, Asahi jumps out and towards the cab of the ambulance...almost like he’s running away from Noya. Of course he fucked this up. He fucked up everything today.

“Noya. Noya, look at me.” Tanaka’s suddenly stern and serious voice forces Noya to turn and look at him.

He grins wide. “This wasn’t your fault...not really. Well, maybe. But I don’t want you to feel bad about it, please, okay? Just buy me more shoes later.” 

Noya frowns. He doesn’t feel any better.

“And that Asahi guy...you two hit it off. Seriously. You did good.”

Noya lightens a bit at this. “W-well, of course. I’m the smoothest talker in the universe.“

“Yeah, okay, ‘I r-r-r-really w-w-wanna go o-out with you,’” Tanaka exaggerates Noya’s nervousness. 

He smirks like the devil he is when Asahi comes back in the ambulance, and _continues_ smirking as he’s pushed off into the ER bay.

* * *

  
  


“Azumane? At it again?” 

Asahi sighs, pushing himself up from where he was kneeling on the bathroom floor. He tries to swallow back the last of the bile in his throat. “Sorry, Ukai.” 

His supervisor dismisses him. “It’s okay, kid, I know how you get. Are _you_ okay? Pretty sure we got some gatorade in the galley.” 

“I’m fine.” He pulls himself together, brushing off his sweats and splashing his face at the sink. At least he had the sense to change out of his uniform before he puked. 

He gets a good look at himself in the mirror. He looks like _he_ should be the patient. An EMT with hemophobia. What a joke. And seeing Nishinoya there was just the cherry on top to form Asahi’s perfect nightmare. 

“So. What happened on your call?” Ukai encourages him, trying to get him to talk it out. 

Asahi knows this routine. “It wasn’t even that bad. Just a...slightly gruesome foot. I’ll have the PCR on your desk in an hour.” 

Ukai frowns at him. “I don’t mean the case. Clearly something else happened out there. Suzuki didn’t say a word when I asked him.” 

“Nothing happened.” 

Ukai’s left eyebrow touches the sky.

“...It’s a long story.” 

Ukai looks like he’s going to press it, then scoffs and turns away. “Whatever, Azumane. Finish the PCR, then go home and get some rest. You spend all your time here at the station, I know you’ve gotta have homework to do.” 

“Yes, sir.” Asahi leans against the doorframe for a moment, feeling a bit nauseous again just thinking about the PCR. 

Ukai shakes his head. “...Y’know what, screw that. Suzuki can do the PCR. Get something at the dining hall, do your homework, and sleep. I need you in prime shape all the time. You’re my best student EMT here.” 

Asahi tries not to look too shocked, but hearing _you’re my best_ is always kindof jarring for someone of his level of self-esteem. “T-thank you, sir.” 

“It’s only the truth.” 

Asahi grabs his backpack from the front room, ready to go, but he stops at the sound of Ukai’s voice again.

“Azumane, didn’t you used to be on the varsity volleyball team?” 

“Uh. Yeah.” Asahi’s suddenly reminded about the conversation in the ambulance cab. He had told Tanaka and Noya that he played IM, but...well, they didn’t need to know why he didn’t play for the school anymore. He’s got an important job, and he has no time for volleyball. “Why?” 

“Because every time I see you, you’re working. I get that you wanted to spend more time here, but I really think you need a hobby. You’re gonna burn out.” Ukai taps his cigarette on the ashtray on the card table in the front room. Asahi pukes, Ukai smokes. They have to cope with this job somehow. “You should...I dunno, join an IM team or something. One that doesn’t require much practice or pressure.” 

Asahi just looks at him, unable to come up with an unintelligible reply. 

What if he could see Noya all the time, more than just across the lecture hall in Econ or when he runs over his friends? What if they could be on the same team?

Asahi doesn’t deserve a team. Not after he quit _varsity_ , like a coward. 

Ukai interrupts his monologue, “It’s just an idea. You don’t have to follow that. But I think it’d be good for you.” 

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

“Take it easy, Azumane.” Ukai waves him off. “And don’t forget to _eat_.” 

* * *

“No-ya-a-a…” Tanaka moans from Daichi’s arms for the fifth time in the past ten minutes.

Noya, turning the key into their apartment, says once more, “What’s up, Ryu?” 

“I don’t have my key…where’s my key...how’re we gonna get inside…” He whines.

Suga pats his buzzed head. “It’s okay. Noya has the key, remember? You live with him?” 

“...Right,” Tanaka agrees reluctantly. 

He bobs his boot-ed foot in the air, smacking Daichi on the return with the hard plastic. Daichi grimaces, but doesn’t say more. He’s been fretting over Ryuu ever since the taxi ride from the hospital—fretting even more than Suga. The doctors gave him so much percocet. They should not have given him so much percocet. 

Noya tosses the keys on the kitchen table and holds the door open for their caravan to come through. “Ryu, bud. You want to go chill in your bed?” 

“I wanna go chill in _Kiyoko’s_ bed,” he says, dead serious, garnering a few assorted chuckles around the room. “But go t’ bed. Yes. Go t’ bed.” 

“Okay. It’s this way, Daichi.” Noya leads them on through their cramped apartment to Tanaka’s room, which is about as clean as you’d expect it to be. Noya pulls back the crumpled covers slightly, allowing Daichi to deposit him onto the mattress.

Daichi kneels next to him and removes his one shoe, tucking him into the covers like a rag doll. “Tanaka. Are you hungry? You want some food?” 

“Hmfg,” Tanaka mumbles unintelligibly in response. He might be drooling. _What the hell_. 

Daichi turns to Noya. “I’m gonna take that as a yes. I was supposed to cook tonight for Suga anyway, so I’ll just make more and bring some over.” 

Noya bristles slightly. “Oh. That’s really nice of you, man, I mean, we could just order some takeout or something—” 

“No, really, I’m happy to help out.” Daichi starts walking out before Noya can protest. “You can handle him, right? Suga and I’ll be back in a bit.” 

Noya nods. “Yeah, no prob. Thanks, Daichi.” 

Noya hears Suga and Daichi murmur a small conversation, then the door shuts and it’s just Yuu and Ryu like always. 

“Yuu…?” 

Noya spins around and sits down on the bed next to his roommate. God, he looks pitiful, all tangled up in the covers and cold sweat dripping off his brow. “Yeah, buddy. I’m here.” 

“Don’ feel so good,” he murmurs in response. “Ev'r’thing's fuzzy.” 

Tanaka never should have agreed to the pain meds. He _knows_ he reacts horribly to them. It’s the same as when he got his wisdom teeth out in high school, where Noya was spoon-feeding him pudding while he hallucinated for days. 

But Noya doesn’t make any of these comments. He just rubs Tanaka’s stubbly head and says, “I’m really sorry about that. But at least your foot isn’t hurting, right?” 

“Yeah.” He hums, uncharacteristically quiet. But that doesn’t last long. “Noya. Noya, am I hot?” 

“What do you mean?” Noya feels his forehead. “I mean, you’re a little feverish, but the doctor said that was okay—” 

Tanaka frowns and brushes his hand away. “No, no. Am I _hot_? Am I a sexy beast?” 

Noya laughs. That makes more sense, coming from him. “Absolutely.” 

“Would you date me?” 

“Nope. We’re best friends, and you’re straight.” 

Tanaka considers this carefully, then asks, “...Would Kiyoko date me?” 

“I don’t see why not. You’ve got everything a woman needs—abs, a sense of humor, and an even-sexier best friend,” Noya teases him, hoping that in his inebriated state he’ll still find it funny.

He does—he laughs breathily. “Funny.” But his expression falls again. “Then why won’t she notice me?” 

“Well, she’s really serious with her studies. I don’t think I’ve seen her at any parties. Maybe she’s just focusing on work.” Noya starts patting his head again. “It’s not your fault, Tanaka. You’re the sexiest beast on earth, aside from me.” 

“And...and big biceps,” he murmurs.

“Hm?” 

“Big Biceps,” he emphasizes, clarifying that it’s a proper noun. “Can’t remember his name. You think he’s hot.” 

“Are you talking about the EMT guy?” 

“Yeah...beer company? Asahi? Asahi!” Tanaka works it out. “You should date!” 

Noya shakes his head and shushes him gently. He’s getting a little too worked up. “I have no idea if he’s actually interested in me, though. It’s just coffee. And maybe we’ll never have another date.” 

Tanaka frowns at that proposition, then brightens again. “...Didn’t he say he was an ace for his IM team?” 

“Yeah, I think so.” 

“Doctor said I’d be outta the game for three weeks. We don’t have subs.” 

Noya agrees. He must be going off on a non-sequitur. “That’s true.” 

Tanaka smirks—smirks hard.

Noya groans, realizing that was not a non-sequitur. “Ryu, _please_ don’t tell me you’re thinking what I’m thinking.” 

“He should sub in for me!” 

Noya rolls his eyes. “He’s on campus EMS and he’s a junior. He’d never be able to come to practice with homework and work-work.” 

“But it’s _perfect!_ Romantic!” 

Noya just glares at him.

Tanaka takes a deep breath. “DAICH-IIII! SU-GA-AAAA!” He screams, then reaches up to bang his fist into the wall—Daichi and Suga’s apartment next door. “DAICHI! SUGA! DAICHI! SUGA! DAICHI—” 

“Ryu! Ryu, stop, man, they’re gonna be pissed at you! Or at me!” Noya hisses as he tries to calm Tanaka down a little bit.

Tanaka only smirks. “DAI-III-CHI-III!” He screams again. “SUGA-AA-A!” 

The door flies open and there are some crashes in the front room. “Tanaka! Noya! What’s going on?” Daichi yells out. 

“Is everyone okay?” Suga adds. 

Tanaka grins at him, heavily satisfied with himself.

Noya huffs and stands up to reassure the very-worried-looking Captain/Vice-Captain duo. “We’re fine. Tanaka had a mild tantrum. I’m really sorry.” 

“NOT A TANTRUM!” Tanaka yells from the bedroom. 

Noya whips his head back to him. “Ryu! Jesus, there are other people in this building, buddy. You need to chill.” 

“But I need to _ask_ them!” Tanaka whines like a stepped-on puppy. A ran-over puppy.

Noya can practically feel all the color drain from his features. Tanaka is actually prepared to ask them if Asahi can join the team. Shit. “No, you do not. You need to sleep off your Perc.” 

Daichi frowns. “Wait, what was he gonna ask?” 

“A stupid question.” 

“I’m _not_ stupid,” Tanaka grumbles. 

“I’m kinda curious, honestly,” Suga says. He steps up to Tanaka’s bed and kneels at his eye level. “Tanaka, buddy. You can ask.” 

“Well...y’know how I broke my foot...Noya broke my foot. And I’m not gonna be able to play in the tourney. So we don’t have an ace, and we don’t have any subs, so we can’t play...” Tanaka’s eyes are wide and pitiful. It does hurt Noya to see this, honestly, even though he’s so pissed off about what Tanaka’s about to say.

Suga nods, eyeing him sympathetically. “Yeah. It’s okay, though, Tanaka. You just need to sleep some and, in the morning, when your pain meds are out of your system, it won’t be so sad.” 

Tanaka shakes his head. “‘M not sad. Because we have another player.” 

“Oh?” Daichi raises a brow. Suga looks similarly surprised. “Who’s our other player?” 

“Big Biceps,” Tanaka proclaims. “Beer company. Noya’s boyfriend.” 

Daichi’s eyes pop out a little as he looks to Noya for explanation. “Who, now?”

“Wait, is he talking about the EMT guy? He did mention he was an ace.” Suga smirks, almost as devilish as Tanaka. “And Noya kept eyeing him the whole time.” 

Daichi shrugs. “Shit, I mean, if he’s an ace and he’s still in shape, then he should join the team, because otherwise we can’t play in the tourney. Noya, do you have his number? You should ask him.” 

Noya tries to pull himself together to speak. “I—no, I don’t. But we’re meeting for coffee tomorrow. It’s a long story, he’s in my Econ class, we had made the plans previously, I—” 

“I don’t really care what you do, Noya. But if you could get him to join our team temporarily, then that would be really helpful.” Daichi cracks a grin. “Good thinking, Tanaka.” 

“See. ‘M not stupid,” Tanaka slurs smugly. “Yuu, you can spend all kinds’a time with Big Biceps now!” 

Noya tries to think of a good reason to be against this.

He can’t find one.


	2. love-tapping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> we have a Not-Date, feat. noya and asahi's inability to flirt

“Are you gonna be okay today?” 

Tanaka’s crutches click in the hall. “Don’t you worry, Sugamama. I’ll be fine!” 

Daichi’s deadpan joins the voices. “I don’t believe you. You literally fell asleep in your curry last night. I—is that curry stain on your cheek still there?” 

“Maybe. Whatever. I was perc’ed out then. But I’m totally sober now,” Tanaka insists. His voice gets louder. “Noya, are you gonna get out here and drive me to campus, or do I have to walk?” 

“I’m coming, I’m coming…” Noya pulls away from the entryway mirror. He looked okay—he looked pretty good. He looked hot. He looked sexy—

“You look decent.” Tanaka gives him a once-over, eyes glinting with tease. “When’s your date?” 

Noya swallows. That’s as much of a compliment as he’ll get. “It’s not a date, it’s just coffee.” 

Tanaka looks thoroughly unimpressed. “Answer the question, dipshit.” 

Noya huffs and shoulders Tanaka’s backpack for him. “Three, right when he gets out of class. If it goes well, then we’ll join you guys for practice.” 

“You better, or you breaking my foot was useless,” Tanaka says, rocking on his crutches. “What was his name again?” 

“Asahi Azumane.” Noya accents each syllable, feeling the name roll off his tongue. The four of them start off down the hall, all heading down to their eight-am’s, dead on their feet from taking care of a stoned Tanaka all night long. Suga and Daichi’s hands are clasped together in the casual ease of a married couple as they lean on each other. 

( _“But we aren’t married!”_ Yeah, right, what a load of bullshit. Noya knows for a fact that Daichi has been carrying a small silver ring in his jeans pocket for the past three months, waiting for The Right Time like it’s going to be suddenly apparent when he should pop the question.)

Tanaka grins in recognition. “Oh, right, Hot Beer Bicep Econ EMT Guy.” 

Daichi snorts at the nickname and punches Noya’s shoulder gently. “So, what do we know about him?” 

Noya sighs, considering. He really doesn’t know anything substantial about him. “ _Well_ , he’s an EMT, and he used to be ace on an IM volleyball team. And I think he’s decent at Econ, I guess? I don’t really know. Yesterday was the only time I’ve ever actually talked to him.” 

“Why him?” Suga smiles curiously as they pile into the elevator. “Was there anything specific about him that, y’know…?” 

“He’s hot. I didn’t need any other reason to ask him out,” Noya replies coolly.

That was a lie, There were other reasons why Noya asked Asahi out. Most of it had to do with the fact that every time he’d flip his notebook, he’d tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, and, in the process, his bicep would flex through his t-shirt, and then Noya wouldn’t end up taking any notes at all during class. 

Suga laughs, cheeks turning pink. “Did you guys flirt the whole way over in the ambulance?” 

“We didn’t flirt at all, really.” He brings a hand up to pat at Tanaka’s shaved head. “Cockblocker here kept talking about volleyball and making horny comments.” 

Tanaka brushes his hand off, indignant. “I was literally _helping_ you. If I remember correctly, he said he was looking forward to the date.” 

“Not a date.” 

Daichi’s shoulders set as he turns to Noya. “Look, man. Do you plan to make out with him at any point during the coffee...outing?” 

The words spill out of Noya’s mouth before he can consider the question. “Probably. Ideally, yeah.” 

Daichi holds his hands up to prove his point. “Then it’s a date. You’re even wearing the Date Shirt! Just don’t scare him off too bad, okay? We really do need him for the team.” 

Suga frowns. “Aw, Dai, don’t put too much pressure on him, it’s only one game that we’d miss—” 

“No, Captain’s right. I think I might die if we don’t get to play this weekend.” Noya straightens out the black Date Shirt, slightly wrinkled but tight and sexy. “And I feel like I should take it slow with him anyways. He seems kinda shy.” 

Suga appears mighty proud at this uncharacteristic comment. “Slow is always good!” 

“Slow is not in Noya’s vocabulary,” Tanaka snorts. “I give it one week. Maybe nine days, tops.” 

Daichi cracks a grin. “We only need four days to last until the game. Restrain yourself until then, Nishinoya. After the game, scare him off all you want.” 

Four days. Four days until the game. 

Has Noya even _had_ a relationship that lasted longer than four days in the past year? Probably not. He’s good at picking _up_ the guys and girls, but he’s not great at making them stay. He’s a fast-burn kinda guy.

It’s college. He’s not here to find a spouse. He’s here to irk through his classes to get his useless degree, to do keg stands at parties he’s barely invited to, to play IM volleyball and scream “ _Rolling Thunder!”_ loud enough for the referee to get pissed off. Sex of any kind is a welcomed bonus, but he’s pretty sure he’s incapable of holding a steady relationship like Daichi and Suga. 

But maybe it’ll be different for Asahi—mysterious Asahi with the beautiful hair, with the careful hands, with the deep but gentle voice. Maybe this will be something more, something emotionally fulfilling. Commitment issues be damned.

Maybe.

* * *

“See you at the station, Azumane.”

“See you, Kuroo.” 

Asahi pushes another wisp of his hair back as he heads through the heavy double doors of the science building. Another Tuesday, another Organic Chemistry hell session with his other EMS guys. But the promise of coffee with the tiny, energetic, mysterious Nishinoya made class a bit better. He sure needed the coffee anyway.

Nishinoya. He had a little bit of a reputation among the sophomores, apparently, for being a total party animal and a one-night-stand pro. Why he would even pay _attention_ to Asahi is unclear. He’s not sure they have much in common other than volleyball.

And Nishinoya still thinks he was on an IM team. That might end up being a problem. How’s he going to backtrack from that? Noya will undoubtedly ask him all about it and Asahi will just have to lie more—

“Asahi! Hey!” 

There he stands at the end of the crowded hallway, backpack slung over his shoulder. He looks _sexy_ , woah, what’s up with that _shirt!?_ It’s tight, just like his jeans, and it highlights his sinewy libero muscles. 

Oh, no. Oh, God, no, ah, fuck, here he goes.

“Um, hi!” Asahi tries not to be too completely awkward, but he feels like a giant looming over Noya—maybe just like an overgrown puppy. 

“C’mon, let’s get outta here. There’s so much _smart_ in this atmosphere, it’s suffocating my poor communications major brain.” Nishinoya laughs as he gestures around the science building and his whole face lights up. “What class were you taking?” 

“Orgo.” 

Nishinoya’s face goes slack. “Oh, God. Is it as hard as it sounds?” 

Asahi doesn’t try to downplay it, scratching the back of his neck with a nervous chuckle. “It’s...yeah. But I need it for med school.” 

His huge eyes widen a little larger. “Oh, a doctor. That makes sense, with the whole EMT thing.” 

“Yeah, it seemed like a natural first step.” _Don’t bore this guy with medical stuff don’t bore this guy with medical stuff don’t bore this guy with medical stuff nobody actually cares you’re just gonna sound like an ass._ “How’s your friend doing, by the way? You guys made it back okay?” 

“Oh, yeah, he’s fine. He and I had an eight-am today, but that’s all, so I dropped him off at the apartment before I came here. He should be okay for the afternoon. I set him up with the TV and snacks.” Noya opens the door for both of them, looking back at him with a humorous glint in his eyes. “He offered to third-wheel, but I figured I should decline for both our sakes.” 

Third-wheel. That meant Nishinoya was treating this as a date. Shit. Was that good? That’s good, right?

“I—yeah, probably. Thanks, Nishinoya.” 

Nishinoya gives him one of those _looks_ again. There’s some emotion written all over his face that Asahi can’t pinpoint, but he just _knows_ his soul is being examined. Maybe he found something he liked—the corners of his lips turn up and he looks away. “So! I thought we could go to the coffeehouse off-campus, on the north end. It’s a little quieter, and it’s only a short walk away. Would that be cool?” 

Asahi finds himself nodding, tucking a stray piece of hair back.

Nishinoya beams, for some reason. 

* * *

“I wonder how they’re doing right now…” Suga muses over his onigiri. There’s a little piece of rice on his cheek that Daichi has been dying to brush off cutely, but for now, he’ll just leave it be.

Daichi leans back against the picnic table where they usually have their lunches, snaking an arm around his boyfriend. “It’s probably going fine. I think.” 

On cue, his phone buzzes. 

**_Yamaguchi: um captain noya’s here with this huge guy and they’re flirting and it’s really weird_ **

“Looks like they made it to the coffeehouse,” Suga murmurs, looking over his shoulder. “Poor Yams. I don’t like putting him in this spot.” 

**_Daichi: It’s okay they’re on a planned date. Weird how?_ **

Bless Yamaguchi. He’s a barista at “their coffeehouse,” where Suga and Daichi spent so many hours falling in love their freshman year, and now Noya and Asahi are there. Yamaguchi is now their unwilling spy.

**_Yamaguchi: noya’s being waaaay quiet compared to how he usually is_ **

**_Yamaguchi: so weird idk how i feel about it_ **

“Pfft, Noya actually took your advice.” 

“I can be a good captain occasionally,” Daichi hums, leaning a little harder into Suga’s side and holding the phone between them.

**_Daichi: Lol it’s okay I told him he shouldn’t be too forward. What did they order I’m curious_ **

**_Yamaguchi: noya got his usual and the big dude got a cappuccino_ **

“Oh, good taste,” Suga hums. But really, anyone had better taste than Noya—he always got a ridiculously sweetened iced mocha simple-carb monstrosity, even in the dead of winter. “I wonder what table they’re sitting in. Wouldn’t it be weird if they were sitting in ours?” 

Daichi smiles shyly. They always took the corner table by the windows, where they could watch the sun go down and the city lights flick on one by one. 

**_Daichi: Where are they sitting_ **

**_Yamaguchi: left corner table_ **

**_Yamaguchi: ...isn’t that the table where you and suga always sit?_ **

“You didn’t!” Suga feigns betrayal, hand clutched to chest. “That’s _our_ spot!” 

**_Daichi: :)_ **

“That table has good luck inside the wood. I told Noya he should sit there, and I’m glad he took my advice.” 

**_Yamaguchi: omg_ **

**_Yamaguchi: noya literally just tucked a piece of the big guy’s hair behind his ear wtf_ **

**_Yamaguchi: what happened to old noya_ **

“...Daichi, I’m liking the way this is going. I’m really liking the way this is going.” 

Daichi has to agree. Noya isn’t ever one for subtlety or gentleness, but...something about this seems so different than Noya’s usual fuck-and-dump. “Me, too. I want a real relationship for Noya, y’know?” 

“Absolutely.” 

“I mean, I know he maybe has a few commitment issues—” 

Sarcasm hangs in the air as Suga ducks his chin into Daichi’s collarbone. “A few. Sure.” 

Daichi ignores the comment. “—but really, this could be really great for him. Though I’m not sure we need more gay panic on the team.” 

“Gay panic is what makes our team great, Dai. Don’t fight it.” 

Daichi decides to refrain from debating the finer points on how relationships affect playing style and can drive wedges in the team. He settles for brushing off the little rice piece off of Suga’s cheek with a gentle thumb.

“I do wonder, though,” Suga hums, eyes closed as he leans into Daichi’s touch.

“What do you wonder, Koushi?” 

His eyes snap open—he’s not flirting. Whoops, Daichi took that one wrong. “I wonder if we’re using Asahi.” 

Shit. He hadn’t really considered that.

Well, maybe he did, but didn’t think anything of it, because he knows Noya can’t make lasting romantic connections with anyone anyway. 

“I think it’s probably okay, Suga. I don’t think...despite what we want, I don’t think this will be that deep.” 

“I pray for the opposite, Daichi. Noya can’t act well enough to pull off something like this without being sincere.” Suga sighs, leaning just that little bit further into Daichi’s chest. “I’m worried about the future, when they start going out, and Noya has to explain that this was, at its conception, an elaborate trap to get him to join our team.” 

The words rise to his lips again— _relationships affect playing style and can drive wedges in the team_.

He swallows the words. They won’t help, since Suga is clearly stressed about it anyway. “It’ll be alright. Let’s make it to practice tonight, and if it’s clearly not working out, then we’ll just call it quits, okay?” 

Suga, ever the romantic, seems a bit disappointed by the whole situation. But he leans just _that_ much further into Daichi’s chest, and they push it out of their minds for the moment.

* * *

Noya had proposed the coffee shop under the suggestion that they could study some Econ while they were there.

No studying has occurred so far. Thank _God_ . Their backpacks lay untouched against the table—the table that has _Daichi + Suga_ written under it. 

“I mean...my life is pretty boring, to be honest. Comms major. No idea what I’m gonna do with my life once I graduate,” Noya hums as he sips the last of his mocha. “You, though. You’re interesting. I want to hear more.” 

Asahi blushes for the fifth time that minute. Holy shit, this man is _shy_ and _responsive_. “Like what?” 

Noya’s new at this whole small talk thing, so instead of talking small, he says, “Life plans?” 

“Oh. Well, that’s quite the topic.” His hand reaches up to rub at his neck. “Short-term, uh, pass all my classes and get at least a 514 on the MCAT. Long-term...who really knows. I’d like to do Doctors Without Borders, though.” 

Sweet, driven, and humanitarian. Wow. “Well, you’ve already got experience with campus EMS and stuff, right? I’m sure you have an advantage there already for getting into medical school.” 

Asahi cracks a small smile. “I guess so.” 

Noya leans his elbows on the table. “What is that even _like_? It’s gotta be crazy, dealing with people like me and Tanaka after your classes.” 

Asahi laughs. “It’s not really all that bad. It’s about twelve of us, plus our supervisor. We normally just do things on campus—the stuff you’d expect. Alcohol poisoning, minor orthopedic injuries, other collegiate afflictions.” He gesticulates as he talks, fingers twisting and biceps flexing. “We usually wouldn’t have done your call last night since your apartments are off-campus, but the city EMS was swamped and we were close, so.” 

“Well, I’m glad you came. That way we could have something to talk about,” Noya giggles out. _God, I sound like a total dork_. “So, the average day in the life of Asahi Azumane. What’s it look like?” 

Asahi looks surprised that he’s being asked a question again. Why? This is a _date._ “Oh. Uh, well, I go to class in the morning. I tried to set up my schedule so all my classes end before three. Then I go to the station and do calls, or work out if it’s slow. Sometimes I teach CPR and first aid classes, too, since we do those as extra fundraising. And...well, around eight or nine I’ll go back to the dorm to study. Or I’ll just sleep in the station. Today I have the night off, though.” He scratches the back of his hand—it’s calloused, but his fingernails are trimmed...or maybe bitten off, Noya can’t tell. “What about you?” 

“Well, let’s see. You’ve seen my apartment already. My roommate and my neighbors and I, we all walk to class together. Then we all fuck around doing different stuff until practice unless Suga—you remember him, the prematurely gray one?” 

Noya didn’t really expect Asahi to remember, but he nods.

“—unless Suga makes us all go to office hours. Then, after all that, we practice. Which, I mean, we practice _way_ more than the other IM teams, but that’s just what we do. Then practice breaks, and either I go home for Netflix or I hit a few different parties. Depends on the night, really, and what frat’s throwing down.” 

They’re quiet for a moment, considering each other’s stories. What did their day’s descriptions say about each other? Noya sounds like a total fuckboy, probably. At least he didn’t wear the gray sweatpants today.

Asahi breaks the silence with a flutter of his lips. “Your life sounds really interesting and exciting. And you and your teammates—er, neighbors—seem really close.” 

“We are. I’m lucky to have them.” That was true—Noya would be _nothing_ without Ryu, Daichi, and Suga supporting him. But they’re not here to talk about Noya’s family. “So, campus EMS is your whole life, really.” 

Asahi’s hand clenches around his cappuccino cup. “I—well, I mean, I—” 

Noya flinches. Wrong wording. “Oh, no, I didn’t mean it in a bad way. I think it’s awesome that you’re committed to that. I don’t really have any guiding factors in my life. I’m kinda jealous, honestly.” 

Asahi’s twisted, panicked expression relaxes slightly. “Oh. Well, thanks, I guess. My supervisor says I should get a hobby. He’s probably right.” 

_Make your move, Noya. He’s practically inviting you to ask him._

He sucks down the last of his sugary mocha, feeling an ice cube with his tongue, then crunches down on it and makes direct eye contact with Asahi. “If you’re on the market for a hobby, we need another player on our team to play in the tourney four days from now.” 

Asahi’s face goes slack, then his brows squinch into an expression that Noya cannot read. For a flash, he looks scared. Then his face goes slack again.

“...You did say you played IM before, right? That you were the ace? Tanaka was really thrilled that you had some history with volleyball, and...well, he suggested that you join us. Just for this game. It wouldn’t be a long-time commitment, I know you have really big responsibilities with your studies and EMS and—” 

“Yes,” Asahi blurts.

A little splash of cappuccino spills onto the table from where Asahi gripped the cup too hard. The milky liquid spreads into the wood grain, unable to be saved, past the point of no return. 

“Y-yes?” Noya lets himself grin. 

Asahi lets out a breath he had apparently been holding. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s funny...Ukai, my supervisor, he actually suggested I should join an IM team. If you guys will have me for the match, then I’d love to.”

He lets his grin grow wider. “Really? Seriously?” 

It’s Asahi’s turn to smile, albeit small and shy. “I mean, I haven’t played in a while. I might be a little rusty.” 

“That doesn’t matter! I can’t believe it! You said yes! Oh, shit, everyone’s gonna be thrilled!” Noya’s enthusiasm bursts through his voice, raising it in volume. “Ah, man, this is awesome! Thank you so much!” 

“I-It’s really fine! You don’t need to thank me,” Asahi says, hands held out in a placating motion, but his shoulders are trembling with his laughter. 

A piece of hair falls out of his bun again, upset by his laughter. Without thought, Noya raches across the table and pushes it behind his ear like he’s seen Asahi do so many times in class. 

Asahi’s hand immediately shoots up to grab at the piece of hair, but it grazes Noya’s hand instead. For a precious moment, their fingers greet. 

“Your hands are cold, Azumane,” Noya hums, mostly out of concern, and also because _holy shit, I must hold your hand right fucking now or I will combust._ He needs _touch_.

“T-they get that way sometimes,” Asahi murmurs back. His cold fingers twitch as Noya pulls them down towards the table. 

“May I, uh, warm them for you?” Noya tries. _Such a dork holyshitwhatwasthat?_

Asahi giggles, short and quiet. The cold fingers stay out of sheer shock.

Noya rolls his eyes at himself. “God, that sounded so weird. I’m trying to hold your hand in a casual way, is all. Can I?” 

Another strange look—panic, fear—but it dissolves to something calmer. “You can.” 

“Sweet.” Noya’s fingers wrap quietly around Asahi’s hand. The heat transfer is immediate and almost jolting—like, instead of sparks flying, it’s their bones burning. 

This is new. Noya hasn’t ever tried this kind of thing before. Is he doing okay? He must be, because Asahi’s fingers curl around in reciprocation. They are now solidly holding hands, in a coffeehouse, at Daichi and Suga’s table. 

“Thank you, Nishinoya.” Asahi blinks, long lashes batting at him in a way that clearly isn’t intentional but is intoxicating regardless. 

“Just Noya. And you’re welcome.” Noya squeezes his hand a little tighter now that it’s in his grasp. He takes advantage of the situation to encourage Asahi along. “We better get to practice, Ace.” 

“I—oh, okay, tonight?” Asahi squeaks. 

Noya nods. “Yeah. Unless you have other plans? But we do have practice, and I told the Captian I’d bring you if you agreed to join.” 

“Um, okay. Okay.” Asahi’s eyes go slightly out-of-focus as he thinks about something. “What time do we need to be there?” 

Noya glances at the clock above Tadashi by the espresso machine—he ignores the freshman’s wide-eyed look. “Twenty minutes from now.” 

He nods. He must be used to crunching the clock. “I have clothes that I could use for practice, but they’re at the station. Could we stop by there before we go?” 

“Yeah, no prob.” 

They stand up, hands not separating, and suddenly Noya’s walking out of the coffeehouse with an ace’s hand in his. He didn’t get a makeout session, but maybe this is just what he needed.

* * *

  
  


“Jesus, _fuck!_ ” Bokuto’s voice rings out through the station as the _Plus-Four_ card is tossed right into his face.

Kuroo smirks from behind his three remaining cards. “Pick your four, and _enjoy them_.” 

Bokuto whines as he picks up another four cards—he’s got at least twenty in his hands, the poor bastard. 

“Who’s winning?” Hinata, the overenthusiastic freshman EMR, pops his head into the galley where Kuroo and Bokuto were having their Uno faceoff. He’s holding a blue CPR dummy head in his hands, fiddling with the plastic facial features. 

“Who do you think, dumbass!? Get back here, I need that head to finish putting the dummies together!” Kageyama, the equally-enthusiastic-in-the-wrong-way counterpart to Hinata, barks from the back room. 

Hinata jumps at least two feet clean in the air and drops the dummy head like he didn’t even know he was holding it. “Coming! But I bet you’re assembling them wrong!” 

“Shut up!” 

Their bickering continues, only making Kuroo that much more amused. Fortunately, the other freshman on campus EMS is much less confrontational—he can hear Yachi squeaking out small _“don’t fight, guys, they’re only dummies!”_ in their direction. Kuroo slaps down another card: red two. 

“Where’s Azumane? Doesn’t he usually get here by now?” Bokuto responds with a blue two. 

“He’s taking the night off, I think. Pretty sure he went out to get coffee with this dude.” Kuroo places a blue five down. “Uno.” 

Bokuto throws down his cards, not out of frustration from his loss, but out of surprise. “Asahi Azumane? Date? Seriously?” 

“I’m not sure if he considered it a date, but yeah, I was surprised, too,” Kuroo hums, biting at the edge of a callous on his index finger. 

Hinata’s head pops in again. “Asahi’s on a date? With who?” 

Kageyama roars, “‘With _whom,_ ’ dumbass! And we’re not finished!” 

Kuroo responds regardless. “A sophomore. Yuu Nishinoya.” 

“ _Nishinoya!?_ ” Yachi’s squeak permeates the galley, threatening to burst the fluorescent lightbulbs. 

Kuroo laughs at her unbridled shock. “I know.” 

“Ah, wait, he’s the small dude with the keg stand skills! I was holding him up last Friday!” Bokuto puffs his chest out like it’s a point of pride to partake in that. “He’s super cool. But I wouldn’t call him Azumane’s type, that’s for sure.” 

“I didn’t know Asahi did anything outside the station and class,” Yachi murmurs. She holds a hastily-thrown-together sandwich in her small forefingers that are excellent at palpating. Yachi’s the most advanced of the three freshman EMRs, and would probably be an EMT right now if it weren’t for the fact that she’s only 17 still. “Good for him. He works so hard.” 

Kuroo nods. “My thoughts exactly.” 

Bokuto nods like a wise sage. “Asahi deserves a good, casual fuck.” 

The galley explodes in laughter; even Kageyama joins in with a dark chuckle.

“CAN YOU DIPSHITS QUIET DOWN!? SOME OF US HAVE _REAL WORK_ TO DO!” Ukai’s bellows from within the “office”—the one room in the station with a desk. He always gets pissy when he has paperwork to do.

“SORRY, BOSS!” Bokuto yells back at the exact same volume. “Anyway. Even if Nishinoya isn’t the right type of guy for Azumane, fucking is always great, and it’s not like the relationship will last past, like, a week anyway.” 

Kuroo laughs, but it’s not actually that funny in his mind. He’s feeling pretty worried about it, honestly. He doesn’t want to see Azumane’s glass heart shattered. “Bokuto, I wouldn’t tease him about this when we see him next. I don’t think he’s gonna—” 

The door swings open, revealing the man in question. “Hey.” 

“Hey, hey, hey, Azumane! How’d the date go? Back so soon?” Bokuto seems to have heard _nothing_ of what Kuroo said.

Kuroo almost pisses his pants. Jesus Christ, he’s so thick-skulled. 

“I—how did you know about that, first of all, and I’m just stopping here to get my gym clothes, it’s not—the da—it’s not over. Alright?” Asahi rushes out. His face is blanched and he looks like he might pass out.

Kuroo wasn’t the only one who noticed, apparently, because Yachi pops up next to them, sandwich trembling in her hands. “Asahi, you look like you’re going into shock! Do you need a thermal blanket? Should we take your sats?” 

Asahi’s face relaxes and he smiles gently to Yachi, always so kind around the freshmen. “I’m fine. Seriously. You guys please behave, okay, because he’s outside and he’s probably gonna—” 

“Hey, guys!” Nishinoya stands at the door, face alight with an almost-impish curiosity. 

“Yooo, Nishnoya! Hey, hey, hey!” Bokuto stands up from his folding chair, knocking it down with a clatter. He moves in and slings an arm around his shoulder. “Remember me? Bokuto?” _Or were you too blacked out?_ He insinuates. 

“‘Course I do!” Noya laughs. “You were the only reason I won the…” He trails off, eyeing Asahi, who looks totally confused. 

Is he embarrassed about the keg stand? He doesn’t want Asahi to know?

Interesting.

“Oh my fucking God, Bokuto, stop incriminating him.” Kuroo intervenes to stand up and join them, clapping Asahi on the back while facing Nishinoya. “I’m Kuroo. Welcome to the station.” 

“Hey! This is super cool! I’ve never been inside an EMS station before!” Noya says, almost in reverence as his eyes dart around the room...the dingey galley. 

Hinata pops his head out again. “Yeah, it’s pretty awesome here! I’m Hinata!” He turns his head and grabs Kageyama by the elbow. “And this is Kageyama!” 

“Yo,” Kageyama murmurs, then ducks back into the storage room. Whether he’s shy or he just doesn’t care about other people, Kuroo can never figure out. 

Yachi’s the last one to introduce herself, per usual. “Hi, I’m Yachi. Sorry, the galley’s a mess, everything’s kinda touch-and-go here,” she explains, nervously giggling. 

“It’s totally fine!” Noya doesn’t seem to care one bit. “So, where’s your stuff, Asahi?”

“In the back. Give me ten seconds and I’ll grab it,” Asahi murmurs. Kuroo doesn’t miss how their shoulders and elbows brush together like touching is natural and they’re trying everything they can to hold hands without actually doing it.

Asahi glares intimidatingly at the whole room—er, glares as intimidating as he can be, which is more just a soft stare. But the message is clear: _Don’t embarrass me._ He jogs out towards the lockers, leaving Nishinoya with the rest of today’s shift.

“So! You and Azumane!” Bokuto says at his normal volume. Kuroo has to elbow him to get him to pipe it down. He gets slightly quieter. “What’cha think of him?” 

“He’s really awesome. We’ve had a great afternoon,” Noya says without any hint of insincerity. 

“Why’d he need to stop by here? He’s getting a change of clothes?” Kuroo probes, trying not to be too cunning. 

“Yeah! We’re actually on our way to my IM volleyball practice.” Noya smiles, then laughs sheepishly. “We needed a sub after one of our players got hurt in...an accident.” 

Kuroo raises an eyebrow at him. Why the evasiveness now?

“Is...what was his name, Suzuki? Is he here?” 

“Nope, he took the day off.” Bokuto doesn’t seem at all fazed by the question. Thick-skulled.

But, of course, Kuroo could put these dots together. _This_ was the guy on Asahi’s call last night. Suzuki said it was funny. He lets his cunning grin show. “That player who got injured. He wouldn’t happen to be Ryuunoske Tanaka, would he?” 

Noya blanches. “Uh, yeah.”

Kuroo laughs—he’s cracked him open. Nishinoya’s _embarrassed_ about his whole personality around Asahi. How funny. “I read the incident report. So that’s how you and Asahi met.” 

“Actually, we’re in Econ together. It was just coincidence that last night happened,” Noya clarifies. “Anyway.” 

“Bro, tell me you’re going to the Sigma Chi party on Friday!” Bokuto roars.

“Yeah, probably! You gonna be there?” 

“Of COURSE I’m gonna be there! I’m _always_ gonna have your back! And your legs!” 

Bokuto and Nishinoya continue laughing, hitting it off. There’s nothing like a bond formed at a frat house party, is there? 

Kuroo decides they’ll be fine and heads back towards the lockers. Asahi got half a shirt on, hands shaking as he dresses himself. 

“You’re gonna be fine, Azumane.” 

Asahi just looks at him, eyes desperate and screaming for confidence. 

Kuroo steps in closer, leaning against his locker next to Asahi’s. “Was Nishinoya treating you okay? Not pushing you too hard or anything?” 

“What—no, nothing like that.” Asahi shakes his head. “He’s been...really sweet, actually.” 

“Good. I can’t believe he’s getting you back into volleyball,” Kuroo chuckles dryly, shaking his head. “That’s a miracle in itself.” 

Asahi almost looks hopeful for a second as he straightens his t-shirt. “I know. But you guys can’t tell him about...about varsity. He doesn’t know I used to play for them. And I don’t want him to know.” 

Asahi...Kuroo doesn’t want to say he pities him, per se, but there’s something about him that just makes Kuroo soft. He used to take so much joy in spiking balls down—when they were freshman roommates, he’d always come back to the dorm exhausted but excited about whatever new play he was doing or whatever new game he had. He was a sight to see out there, too. 

He had so much potential, so much _power_ on the court, and it’s been gone for the past year and a half. Not wasted, but dormant. Kuroo’s glad it can be utilized again.

“We won’t. You know I’d never tell your own stories, the freshman don’t even know, and Bokuto’s an idiot, but he respects you. We’re your family. Don’t forget it.” Kuroo slaps Asahi on the back firmer than necessary. “Now get out there and play some volleyball. Blow those guys away and show off to Horny Shorty.” 

Asahi snorts and blushes at the nickname, but complies and heads out of the locker room. Kuroo can hear him join back up with Nishinoya, can hear Bokuto make an inappropriate comment, and can hear the station door slam shut. 

“I’m glad _someone_ around here takes my advice.” 

“Ukai.” Kuroo flips around at the paramedic’s voice. “Yeah, he’s going out to play volleyball with some dude and his IM team.” 

Ukai chuckles, eyes showing incredulity. “He’s gonna _thrash_ them.” 

“Maybe that’s what he needs.” 

“Maybe.” He shrugs. “So long as he doesn’t get hurt.” 

As Ukai turns off, head ducked to light his cigarette, Kuroo realizes he means more than _physical_ hurt.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mmm, no thoughts, head empty, just bokuto driving an ambulance. live with that image, because it's now canon in this fic
> 
> love you guys so much i know i butchered a lot of these characters so if you have any feedback it would be welcomed warmly!
> 
> xx


	3. revved up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> meet the team! have a kiss! overthink everything!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay im sorry in advance, i know 0 about volleyball outside of haikyuu so i didn't really fully describe practice. but y'all know how volleyball practice goes, right?

Being in an IM sport means Yamaguchi has weird practice times. He probably shouldn’t even be on the team  _ and  _ have a job. He’s lucky that his boss is forgiving about him picking up strange shift times at the coffeehouse. But, if he’s being honest to himself, he’d do anything, make  _ any _ compromise, to be with Tsukki for the two hours that their little team passes the volleyball around.

Today was strange, though. He kinda hates his job, but only because he’s jealous of all the couples who come through to share lattes and kisses and hushed laughter. Like Noya and the massive dude that left holding hands.

It’s not fair. Why does  _ Nishinoya  _ get all the guys and girls, while Yamaguchi has to stand next to Tsukki with butterflies in his chest?

At least he gets to stand next to Tsukki at all, he supposes.

“Are you okay, Yams?” A careful hand lands on his shoulder. Suga.  _ God _ , Yamaguchi would probably have a huge crush on him if he weren’t such a mom to him...or vodka-aunt, depending on the hour.

He snaps his head up. He’d been staring at his shoelaces for at least forty seconds. “Oh, yeah, I’m fine! Sorry!”

Daichi, close behind Suga, comes to Yamaguchi’s other side. “Don’t apologize. We were the ones who made you stake out on Noya today. Sorry for putting you through that. We probably should have given you more warning.” He rubs the back of his neck, sheepish.

“It was really fine! I was bored on my shift anyway!” Yamaguchi grins. “Noya looked like he had a good time.”  _ At least one of us did. _

“...Stakeout?” Tsukki gives him a sideways glance through his glasses. 

“Yeah. Noya asked out this guy to join the team after he, uh, ran over Tanaka.” 

“But he doesn’t know we’re using him. So don’t be a smartass, Tsukishima.” Tanaka flops down next to them, frowning. His booted foot thunks on the hardwood 

“Someone’s upset that he can’t spike on Saturday,” Tsukki huffs. “Whatever. I don’t care. As long as he’s good.” 

Suga, Daichi, and Tanaka exchange a nervous look. 

Tsukki raises a brow. “...He is good, right? You didn’t just ask some random guy to join the team because Noya boned over him?” 

“I’m sure he’ll be great. Besides, it’s only one game, and it’s just IM.” Daichi smiles plastically, placating but somewhat ticked off. 

Tsukki smirks. Oh, God, he’s about to  _ destroy  _ Daichi, just because he can. “‘ _ Just IM? _ ’” 

Suga sighs. “He has a point, Dai. We all take this way more seriously than the other IM teams.” 

“Okay. Fine.” Daichi raises his hands in surrender. “We’ll just see when he—” 

“Hey!” The gym doors burst open. “Guys! Meet our new ace!” 

He has the large man by the hand, jerking him into the gym. He stumbles out onto the court, volleyball sneakers squeaking.

Wait, those look like  _ expensive  _ shoes. Does this guy actually play volleyball? 

Noya just laughs when the man just stares, mouth agape. He elbows him lightly. “C’mon. Introduce yourself.” 

“Right. Hi, uh, I’m Asahi Azumane.” He smooths his t-shirt out and smiles shyly. “Glad to be here.” 

Tanaka wolf-whistles. “Well, I’ll be damned. He looks even better in those shorts, Noya. What are those, five-inch seams? Jesus.” 

Noya turns scarlet. “Bro,  _ shut up _ ,” he hisses. Turning to Asahi, he murmurs. “You remember Tanaka.” 

Asahi, mortified, still manages to chuckle. “Of course. How’s your foot doing?” 

“Fuckin’ broken, but hey, at least it brought you here.” Tanaka shrugs. “Now, settle something for us, Asahi. Are you a good player?” 

This is the one question that seems to shake him the most. He nearly trips on his own expensive Mizunos. “Uh, well, I guess?” 

Tsukki rolls his eyes. “Tell us you have experience.” 

“Tsukki!” Yamaguchi scolds gently. “Not so rude.” 

“It’s a valid concern,” Tsukki almost scoffs at Yamaguchi. 

“...Sorry, Tsukki,” he murmurs.  _ Shit, he hates me.  _

“I apologize for his...bluntness,” Daichi says. “I’m Daichi.” 

“Right, you’re the captain? Thanks for letting me come.” Asahi bows his head and looks up to Suga. “And Sugawara, right? You’re the vice-captain? Thank you as well.” The bows continue.

“It’s really nothing. Thank  _ you _ for coming. And, wow, you’re good with names,” Suga says, impressed. “Well, the only member you’ve yet to meet is Yamaguchi, our jump floater.” 

Yamaguchi waves. “Hi.” 

Asahi definitely recognizes him but apparently decides not to acknowledge how Yamaguchi witnessed his whole date. “Hello.” 

Daichi claps his hands together. “Well, ah. Tsukishima’s rude, but he makes good points. What’s your volleyball experience? You played IM freshman year?” 

“Yes,” Asahi replies, speech quick and cropped.

That...was a lie. Yamaguchi can spot lies very easily—that’s one of his few talents. 

Daichi seems unfazed. “Well, awesome. Why don’t we play a little three-on-three? Tsukishima, Yamaguchi, and Noya against you, me, and Suga?” 

“Sure.” Asahi grins, but it’s a bit shaky. Or maybe Yamaguchi’s overanalyzing him now. 

They distribute between the net. In this team arrangement, Yamaguchi usually sets and Tsukki hits while Noya covers all the receives, just because he can. They’re a decent trio, mainly due to Noya’s insane talent. 

Who knows. If Asahi’s lying about IM experience, maybe they’ll win.

Tanaka has somehow scrambled up the referee stand, yelling as he perches himself, “I’ll call it!” 

Suga rolls his eyes, exasperated but not surprised. “Please don’t hurt yourself.” 

“Why don’t  _ you _ do the honors, Azumane?” Tsukki teases, tossing the volleyball over the net and right into Asahi’s hands. “Serve it up.” 

Asahi looks at the ball with a bit of trepidation, but then his eyes flick up to Noya. 

He gives him a thumbs-up and a smirk. “Let’s see if I can get it.” 

Asahi’s expression goes a little firmer, energized by competition. His shoulders tense and he tosses the ball up.

Left, right, left. He jumps. 

The topspin ball whizzes by, right out of Noya’s reach. It smacks on the gym floor and bounces out to the bleachers. 

Tanaka laughs, incredulous. “Um? Wow? One-oh?” 

“Well, well, well,” Tsukki laughs. He looks to Yamaguchi and smirks. “Maybe we’ll have to  _ try _ this match.” 

Yamaguchi laughs, feeling some pure joy at Tsukki’s determination. “I guess we will.” 

“Do it again, Biceps!” Tanaka bellows from the stand as Asahi grabs the ball. 

Asahi goes pink. Noya goes even pinker. 

Yamaguchi has to giggle. There’s joy in his heart, seeing the unlikely pair hit it off. 

Even if he isn’t the one receiving the love, he can appreciate it. 

* * *

  
  


“So!” Noya exhales sharply in the cool night air. “What’d you think?” 

“I had an...amazing time,” Asahi laughs, all sincerity. His chest still heaves slightly from playing nine sets in a row, winning seven. He takes a long swig from his worn, sticker-covered water bottle. “Thank you for inviting me.” 

“Don’t thank me. We need you—I mean, you’re  _ good _ , Azumane. You’re  _ really  _ good. I never would have guessed that you hadn’t played for a year.” He walks down the sidewalk with a spring in his step as he goes over the sets in his mind...Noya could barely receive Asahi’s serves and spikes, and he meshed right in with Suga and Daichi like they’d been playing for years. “I mean, if I didn’t know better, I would’ve thought you were a commit.” 

Asahi coughs suddenly, choking on his water.

“Woah. You okay?” Noya asks when he keeps on coughing. “Christ, you’re  _ horrible  _ at taking compliments.”

This makes them both laugh, which only makes Asahi cough harder, which only makes Noya laugh harder. 

“I—I really am, huh?” Asahi chuckles out once he regains his breath. “Thank you, Nishinoya. That’s really flattering.” 

Noya grins. He got Asahi to accept the compliment—that’s something. 

“But you were the real star there,” Asahi says. “I mean, Daichi and Suga and the rest are also really exceptional, but you...you dominated. In all the best ways.” 

“Well, I don’t know how true that is. I just...dig it up, with whatever it takes. You really gave me a challenge tonight. So I should thank you for that, too.” 

Noya must have said something right. Asahi’s eyes crinkle into a wide smile, something mixed with admiration and pride. 

It would have been a wonderful moment, except Noya shivers when a colder breeze washes by. Damn his cold-natured body. He was  _ just  _ hot and sweaty.

“Oh, are you cold?” Asahi’s brows immediately furrow in concern. “Here, wait.” He rummages in his gym bag and procures a pullover. “Put this on. Evaporative cooling and all that. You can’t get a cold before Saturday’s game.” 

Noya would normally protest this. But there’s something about Asahi’s pink-dusted cheeks as he offers this out to him—he might be trying to play the old trick in the book. He accepts the soft, gray, comically large pullover, feeling where the inside of the sleeve is worn from someone rubbing their thumb and forefinger over it repeatedly. 

Fingering the lettering on the chest of the jacket— _ Campus EMS _ , it reads underneath a blue badge,  _ Azumane, EMT _ —he says, “The station was fun. Thanks for showing me.” 

“Oh. You’re welcome.” Asahi, still looking a little shocked that he even took the jacket, blinks. “I didn’t know you knew Bokuto already.” 

“Yeah. I’ve only really seen him at parties, but he’s fun, for sure.” Noya thumbs the inside of the jacket some more before asking, “Uh, I’m not sure—I mean, I bet you’re busy, and I bet you’re not even the type of person to enjoy these types of things—but Bokuto told me Sigma Chi’s having a party on Friday. Do you—would you want to come with me? It would just be a few drinks and dancing and stuff.” 

Oye. Asahi really  _ can’t  _ accept any form of compliment or affection. “Really?” He blinks once, twice.

“Yeah. I had a really great time today with you today, and, If you’re down, I’d like to keep going.” Noya lets out one of his sly grins. “I promise I’ll make it worth your while.” 

“I-I’d like to keep going, too,” Asahi says when he regains his wits. “I’m sorry. You’re a lot more proficient at flirting than I am.” 

“Honestly, this is all kinda new territory,” Noya murmurs, hoping Asahi wouldn’t read too much into it. “But we can figure this out. I really think so.” 

Asahi nods. “Well, um. Do you want to meet again tomorrow before practice?” 

Noya smirks. Whoo boy. He’s committed to this. That’s nice. “Are you asking me on a  _ date _ , Azumane?” 

“I—I suppose I am, yeah.” He straightens up. 

“What will we do on this...date?” Noya asks. 

A blank look crosses over Asahi’s face. “Um. I hadn’t gotten that far.” 

Noya laughs, loud and ringing through the night and into the trees lining the sidewalk. “That’s okay. Tell you what. I know you’ve got to study, so why don’t we just meet in the quad? We can get something from the dining hall, then you can study, I’ll play my guitar? It’s kinda part of my studying for my music theory class.” 

“You play guitar?” Asahi smiles. Oh, he finds that hot. Everyone always does. 

“Shittily, but yeah. It’s easy for me to fuck around with for chord identification.” Noya shrugs. “Is that a yes, Azumane?” 

“Ah. Yeah. That sounds perfect.” He shakes himself off, then chuckles. “Wait, did you just ask me out for a date _ I  _ suggested?” 

“Sorry, I tend to...take the reins on these kinds of things,” Noya snorts. 

Asahi quirks an eyebrow at him, still laughing quietly. “That’s the third time you’ve asked me out.” 

“So? I can’t be interested?” Noya counters, suppressing more laughter. 

“No, no. Please do,” Asahi asserts. “May I ask you for something, then?” 

“Hm?” 

“Want to, ah, hold hands again?” 

They look at each other and finally let go of the nervous laughter they were holding. Noya’s hand slips into Asahi’s, like it had done that a million times before and not just once. 

They continue on like that for another half a mile or so, hand in hand like schoolgirls as they talk about random shit. Favorite food—tonkotsu ramen. Childhood crush—Harrison Ford in the old Star Wars movies (his gay awakening, at eight years old). Worst high school class—calculus, even though he needs to keep studying that for the MCAT. Hairstyle—he only wears it down to sleep, but he’ll do a half-up, half-down thing if he’s feeling fancy. Best season—winter, since his birthday is then, and  _ snow _ , he describes emphatically. 

And he got to know the same about Noya, of course. Garigari-kun. Either Scarlett Johansson or Tom Cruise. Literature. The little blonde part of his hair is actually natural—poliosis, it’s apparently called—and he pretty much always wears it gelled up. Summer. 

“This is my dorm, actually,” Asahi murmurs as they approach the big brick complex, drawing their conversation to a pause. “Thanks for walking me.” 

Noya notices how his face has fallen from its previously animated grin. “Aw, Azumane, you don’t have to look so sad. I’m gonna see you tomorrow.” 

“I know. I’m already looking forward to it.” A grin cracks through his face. 

A silence settles over them as Asahi shifts on his feet outside the dorm door. His fingers twitch in Noya’s hand, clearly not wanting to let go. 

Asahi breaks it, voice shaky. “...Um, just gonna be direct here, but are you one for kisses on the first date? Or is that too fast?” 

_ Did he really just—Azumane, I was waiting for you to invite me inside so I could fuck you, not waiting for a kiss goodnight like some stupid middle schooler.  _

Noya holds that in, though. It’s clear that Asahi isn’t even thinking about sex. “Not at all. Let’s do it.” 

Asahi smiles shyly again, then reaches his hand right behind Noya’s head and pulls him in closer. Noya does the same, if a little more forceful, burying his fingers in Asahi’s messy bun.

Their lips meet, chaste and closed. It’s not dry, just hesitant. Slow. Noya wants to press for more, but holds himself back once again. 

Why is Noya even more satisfied by this than any other suck-face sessions he’s had recently?

They pull away after a few more little kisses, hands still in each other’s hair.

“Thanks for everything today, Azumane,” Noya manages to say as he pulls his hand back. 

“No, thank  _ you _ , Nishinoya.” Asahi pauses, then his hand drops, too. “And it’s just Asahi.” 

“Asahi.” Noya steps back, starting to peel off his pullover.

“No, no. You still need to get to your apartment, right? Keep it for tonight, it’ll only get colder.” Asahi steps a little closer to shorten the gap between them. “Do you want me to call you an uber?” 

“No, it’s fine. I’ll just take the bus,” Noya replies. He finds himself stepping back another few feet, against every interest inside him. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Asahi. Three-o’clock again?” 

“Three’s fine. See you in the quad.” 

Noya starts to turn off towards the nearby bus stop, but Asahi’s voice calls out again.

“Wait, I didn’t—I didn’t even get your number, Nishinoya,” he laughs. 

Noya spins on his heel. “Shit, you’re right! Here, let me put it in there,” Noya offers.

Asahi pulls out his phone from his back pocket, opening it up to the texts and letting Noya pop it in. “Thanks. Again.” 

Noya doesn’t answer it with anything verbal, because  _ how can he _ —he kisses Asahi again, rougher and wetter on the lips.

Before he can see his reaction or deal with the consequences, he turns to the bus stop, waving behind his back and pulling the gray jersey of his pullover closer to his skin.

* * *

  
  


**_Asahi: Did you make it back ok??_ **

Noya stares at the message for another few seconds, then chucks his phone across the couch, right into Tanaka’s lap. 

Tanaka shakes his head. “Bruh,  _ why  _ are you so upset?” 

“Because I am a horrible person that will corrupt everything about Asahi,” Noya groans. “Fuckin’ hate myself.” 

Tanaka frowns. “Are you mad that you didn’t fuck?” 

“No. I’m mad that I assumed that, and we kissed, like, innocently, and then...ugh, I feel bad, but I didn’t really do anything wrong? I don’t even know.” Noya smushes his face into the couch cushion. 

“You should at least text him back.” Tanaka throws the phone back to him. “It sounds like you guys had a great time today. Like, it was a  _ long _ first date, but it sounded like a good one.” 

Noya sighs and accepts the phone.

**_Noya: yup! thanks for checking on me_ **

“It wasn’t bad, not at all.” Noya shakes his head. “I just...normal flirting, I don’t know how to do that.” 

“Define ‘normal flirting,’” Tanaka chuckles, brow furrowed.

“Like, flirting at a normal pace. Flirting while sober.” 

“Well, you must have been encouraging him along this whole time, because he’s one of the shyest guys I’ve ever met, and yet you got him to both hold hands with you and kiss him. Those are pretty big for a guy of his caliber, I think.” 

“But physicality shouldn’t even be the end goal, right? That’s what Daichi says. It should be about ‘emotional fulfillment’ or some shit,” Noya lets himself ramble as he teases the edge of the couch cushion with his fingers.

“Do you feel ‘emotionally fulfilled?’”

“No. I feel—I feel  _ incomplete _ . Like he...like he took something away from me.” 

Tanaka scootches along the couch until he gets shoulder to shoulder with Noya, dragging his boot along with him. He leans in close. “Noya, let me tell you a secret.” 

Noya pouts at him. Whatever this is, it better be good. 

Tanaka leans in even closer, resting his chin on Noya’s shoulder. He whispers, “ _ You are falling for him _ .” 

Noya’s head snaps around. “I’ve known him for a grand total of 48 hours. I haven't fallen for him.” 

“You said you felt like he took something  _ away _ from you. That’s  _ pining _ . You’re not getting closure, like you get with your one-night-stands when you fuck someone and leave ‘em in the dust,” Tanaka remarks, almost snidely. “Sorry. No offense. But everyone thinks that’s shitty.” 

Noya sighs. “I know.” 

Tanaka holds his hands out in triumph. “So, you’re making a change. You’ve got two dates and a  _ tournament game  _ lined up with him. Give this a try, see if it ends up being a little more ‘emotionally fulfilling’ as you go along.” 

His phone buzzes again.

**_Asahi: Had a great time today!_ **

Tanaka bops the phone with his palm. “See? All good stuff.” 

**_Noya: same!! psyched for tomorrow!!_ **

The bubbles pop up almost instantly.

**_Asahi: Me too! I’m excited to hear your guitar, should make studying more exciting lol_ **

“Please tell me you’re gonna play  _ exclusively  _ love songs tomorrow with your guitar,” Tanaka teases. 

“We’ll see.” 

**_Noya: ahaha we’ll see how it goes. any requests for tomorrow? I should add more to my repertoire if i’m “studying” :)_ **

The bubbles linger for a little longer this time.

**_Asahi: I’m not picky, but I really love Hozier_ **

**_Asahi: Anything you play will be great tho_ **

“BRO!” Tanaka yells up to the ceiling, banging the couch cushions. “Is he  _ psychic?  _ He has  _ taste! _ ” 

Noya has to smile. He loves Hozier—kind of uncharacteristic compared to the rest of him, but his guitar playing is  _ genius _ . Tanaka has endured hours of Noya fingerpicking his songs in this apartment. 

**_Noya: you’re kidding i fucking love hozier_ **

**_Noya: you might regret asking that cuz that is all i’ll play tomorrow_ **

**_Asahi: No way! No complaints from me!_ **

“So. He’s hot. He’s smart. He’s strong. He’s kind. He’s fucking  _ amazing  _ at volleyball. He shares your taste in music. And he’s interested in you.” Tanaka checks them off on his fingers. “I see  _ no downside _ , other than, like, no instant-gratification sex.” 

Noya has to laugh a little bit.

This might be shaping up to be something better than he ever planned. 

* * *

  
  


Asahi took a long, hot shower in the suite bathroom that night—long enough that Kuroo started banging his fist on the door once he hit the thirty-minute mark.

“Asahi! Are you dead or something?” He shouts over the running water.

“Fine!” Asahi yells back. 

He turns down the heat a bit, letting the cool water run down his back and close the cuticles on his hair. Once he’s sure he won’t be totally shocked by room temperature when he gets out, he shuts off the water and starts to towel off. He pulls on some boxers and a pair of sweats, then looks at himself in the mirror briefly. 

He did look pretty good. He didn’t eat all that well (according to Ukai), but he’s still pretty muscular, probably from grueling station workout sessions with Bokuto and his neverending supply of protein powder. 

Does Noya like the way he looks? He’s pretty sure Noya likes his hair. He combs it out and throws it up into a tight knot to keep water off his back, then throws a t-shirt on and heads out into the suite. Only Kuroo was here right now—their other two suitemates were both off on study abroad. 

Kuroo looks up from his orgo textbook where he’s splayed across the common room couch. “You okay?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m great.” Asahi grins slightly and grabs his philosophy textbook, then flops down next to him. 

Kuroo narrows his eyes. “Are you sure Nishinoya wasn’t forcing anything onto you?” 

Asahi shakes his head back and forth. Kuroo can get so protective. “No, really. I mean, that last kiss was all him, basically, but it’s not like I didn’t enjoy it. It just caught me by surprise.” 

“You had fun today, though?” 

Asahi nods emphatically. “For sure. I was pretty nervous almost all day, but you were right about volleyball. Everything got easier when I was able to play some.” 

Kuroo grins, teeth shining. “Told‘ya. And they don’t know anything about varsity?” 

“Not to my knowledge. I didn’t have to fake or anything—I’m really rusty. They just think I’m good, not scholarship-worthy.” Asahi sighs, satisfied, and cracks his wrists. He was a good kind of sore. 

“Good, man.” Kuroo claps his shoulder. 

They sit in comfortable silence for a bit while Asahi highlights and jots down notes all in his textbook margins, while Kuroo just looks at it and can know all of it instantly. Kuroo occasionally crunches on a granola bar, adding to the squeak of highlighter on paper. 

Asahi stops at a passage that requires him to actually analyze. He’s too distracted. “How were you and Kenma in the beginning?” 

“Much slower than you and Nishinoya,” Kuroo snorts. “Kenma could barely speak two words per hour.” His boyfriend sure is shy, much more so than Asahi. He lives across campus, since he’s in the business school. 

“Do you think it’s okay that we’re moving this...fast? Comparatively fast?” 

Kuroo shrugs. “Hard for me to say. But if you’re both having fun and you don’t feel super rushed, then I don’t see the issue.” 

That’s the end of it. Kuroo isn’t the best source for romantic information due to his lack of experience. But, he is always truthful and  _ always _ perceptive. He wants to go into psychiatry; he’ll be awesome at it. But Asahi wants to keep doing the trauma stuff, even if he loathes the sight of blood. The action in it…

“Are you working tomorrow?” Kuroo breaks silence again. 

Asahi flinches. He hates sacrificing his station time, but it’ll only be until Saturday that he’s obligated to go to practice. “Uh, no. Nishinoya and I are having another date. I can pick up your shift—” 

“Nope. Take your days off, you deserve them,” Kuroo dismisses him. “Ukai might be kinda pissy when you’re not on duty, and Hinata definitely misses you when you aren’t around, but they both want you to take time off.” 

Asahi nods, rubbing his eyes. This  _ is _ the first time in a while that he can get to bed before midnight. 

“Ah, fuck this. I’m done.” Kuroo snaps his book closed. “Going to bed.” 

“Same, I think.” Asahi caps his highlighters and shuts his book, then drops them off on his desk. “Want me to hit the lights?” 

“Yessir,” Kuroo murmurs from his bed, sleepy. He’s such a quick sleeper, like a little cat.

Asahi flicks the common room light off and heads to his bed, plugging his phone in and bringing it with him up to the elevated bunk. He and Nishinoya have been texting almost continuously all night. 

**_Asahi: I think I’m gonna head to bed_ **

**_Asahi: Good night!_ **

When he sees no immediate response, he scrolls on twitter for a bit. Nothing notable. He might just fall asleep.

The buzz of his phone nearly makes him jump. 

**_Noya: goodnight asahi!! sleep well!! :))))_ **

Asahi might actually sleep well, dreaming of the future they could have. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaa lots of random hcs in there and also shameless insertion of my love of hozier and guitar-playing!noya
> 
> comments? questions? suggestions? criticisms? again, i know most of these depictions are just Really OOC™ so if there's any glaring problems please let me know!


	4. going pro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2nd date luv~ and, shit, i really had to break out my flashcards and EMT textbook for this chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey there, heads up, there's some mentions of homophobia in this chapter! love you all!

Suga pulls Noya aside on his way to the quad, jangling the guitar on his back. “Okay, what’s your setlist?” 

“Uh. ‘Almost,’ ‘Like Real People Do,’ and ‘From Eden.’ Maybe ‘Dinner and Diatribes,’ but it depends on the mood.” Noya scuffs the sidewalk with the toe of his sneaker. 

Suga stands back, wind fluttering his hair. “Aren’t you gonna do ‘Take Me To Church?’” 

“It’s only chords, the official tabs are for bass.” Noya fiddles with the strap of his case as he considers it. “You know I never actually get through three songs in front of someone I don’t know anyway. I’ll probably play ‘Dust In The Wind’ or ‘Tears In Heaven’ at some point, but I need to get a feel for what he likes first.” 

Suga nods, always understanding. Noya plays all kinds of songs around him, Tanaka, or Daichi, so he knows what his playing habits are. “And you’re sure you’re not gonna sing for him?” 

Noya nearly glares a hole in Suga’s face. “Absolutely not.” 

“Okay.” Suga brushes a lock of his unruly hair away, then claps his shoulder. “Blow him away, like you always do. And don’t get too nervous, your hands lock up.” 

“I know, I know,” Noya groans. “Don’t you have to be in Shakespearean Lit right now?” 

“Maybe. But I wanted to check on you first.” Suga shrugs, but his eyes are telling. He’s slightly concerned. “I just needed to know you felt comfortable.” 

_ Of course I feel comfortable _ , Noya wants to say in a fit of stubborn insistence. Why does Suga care so much about this? It’s Noya’s love life, not his. “Thanks. I’m good, though. I got this,” he says with a confident grin instead. “Go to class or I’ll tattle to Daichi.” 

“Yikes. Okay, I’m going.” Suga turns, then turns back immediately. “Wait! Shit! I forgot to tell you the thing I came to tell you about! Practice is off.” 

Noya’s face falls. He was actually really looking forward to practice. “You’re fucking with me right now.” 

“No, unfortunately. All the gym spots were claimed because the other teams are cramming before the tournament. Even the beach court was booked.” Suga grimaces. “But we’ll be fine. It’s, what, Wednesday? We’ve got some time, and we’re prepared anyway.” 

“You’re right,” Noya sighs as he contains his disappointment. “I guess I’ll see you back at the apartment, then.” 

“Yup, see ya. Good luck.” Suga claps his shoulder again, then continues on the sidewalk to be tardy to his next class. Noya heads on, too, passing a few people he knows with a wave but heading directly for the spot in the quad he and Asahi agreed on through text last night.

Whew. Noya can do this. No prob. His fingers are a little sore from class this morning, but it’s not enough to really inhibit his playing. He just needs to make sure he uses his  _ brain _ . 

He nearly walks right past Asahi while he’s so wrapped up in his thoughts. It takes Asahi’s softspoken voice to snap him out. “Hey, Nishinoya.” 

“Asahi! Hey!” Noya beams. The nervousness recedes slightly as he takes in the sight of him, the autumn wind ruffling his hair and rippling against his sweater. He’s got a Philosophy textbook in his lap, a highlighter clutched in his right hand, and notecards clutched in his left hand. “Hard at work, huh?” 

“Regrettably, yeah,” he chuckles. “How was your day?” 

“Ah, not bad at all. Just Music Theory today.” Noya comes to sit next to him, setting his guitar case down on the grass. “Whatcha working on?” 

“Plato,” he laughs as he shows off the highlighting work in his textbook. He holds up the notecards. “And these aren’t even for me—they’re for Kageyama and Hinata, from the station. I wrote them out for them to help them study. But I’m using them as study breaks.” 

Noya thumbs through the cards when Asahi hands them over. The top one reads in a neat but rushed scrawl,  _ Patient: 80-year-old female. The patient is on a variety of medications for a variety of illnesses. The patient is difficult to arouse, her pupils are constricted, and her breathing is shallow. You should suspect a) a heart attack, b) a drug overdose, c) seizures, d) a stroke. _ “Woah, heavy stuff.” 

Asahi winces. “Yeah. They’ve gotta know it for their EMT-B exam, though, which is just around the corner.” 

“Wait, how does that even work? I thought they were paramedics, like you.” Noya cocks his head. He flips the card over:  _ b) a drug overdose. Watch for incorrect med intake in geriatrics.  _

“Actually, none of us are paramedics, except for my supervisor. Bokuto, Kuroo, and the other people in the squad are all EMT-Bs—the B means  _ basic _ —and Kageyama, Hinata, and Yachi are EMRs. Emergency medical responders. That’s, like, basic first aid.” Asahi fans the cards out on his textbook and sits back on his hands. “Yachi would be an EMT already if she weren’t seventeen. She doesn’t even really need to study. Hinata and Kageyama, though…” The concern in Asahi’s eyes grows heavier. “Anyway. Yeah. And I’m an EMT-I, which is basically the same as the other guys, but I can give IVs and intubate people.” 

Noya tries to let that percolate. He thought that paramedic and EMT were exchangeable terms. “Woah. Okay, so the tiny ginger and his mad friend have a big test coming up, and you’re helping them out on it?” 

“Mm-hm.” Asahi nods. “They’ll pass, I think. I hope.” 

“They’re lucky to have someone like you helping them.” Noya lays on the charm, but there’s no inaccuracy there—Asahi must be really, really smart, and he’s probably a really awesome study buddy. Maybe Noya should ask for his help at some point. “The way Hinata talked about you at the station, I think he really looks up to you.” 

“You flatter me,” Asahi laughs, seeing right through him. “But, yeah, I care about them. I didn’t have any siblings growing up, so they’re kinda my family. Even if Yachi was terrified of me when she first met me.” 

Noya snorts. “Terrified? How could anyone be terrified of you? You’re, like, the opposite of terrifying.” 

“It’s the looks, I think. The beard. Bokuto calls me a ‘grown-ass man’ at least three times a week,” Asahi chuckles as he rubs at his stubbly goatee. The wind ripples again, and he tucks his hair behind his ear.

Noya’s melting. Who  _ is  _ this guy? Why does he feel this way about a total stranger? 

“But you must not have had a problem with that,” Asahi says, a tease of flirt in his shining eyes. 

“Nope,” Noya confirms. “Not at all.” 

“Um, weird question, but how’d you know I was gay? Like, when you asked me out.” Asahi sets his textbook aside to curl his legs up under him. 

“I didn’t. I took a gamble.” Noya shrugs. He got a vibe off of him, but nothing more. 

Asahi seems completely baffled by this reasoning. “Wha—what would you have done if I were straight?” 

Noya shrugs in response. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained, I like to think.” 

“Oh. I guess that makes sense,” Asahi concedes, but he doesn’t look any less confused. 

“You’ve never asked a guy out, huh?” Noya smiles softly, not judgemental at all.

“No, never,” Asahi responds hurriedly.

Noya pauses, then lowers his voice. “You—are you closeted? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—” 

“No, I’m not, really. Not here, at least.” Asahi waves his hands in dismissal. “All the guys at the station know I’m gay. I’m pretty sure at least half of  _ them _ are, too. I just...I dunno, I’m not usually one to ask out people anyway, and I kept...to myself about my sexuality in high school.” 

“I get that.” Noya leans in a little closer, feeling the body heat radiating off him. “Do your parents know?” 

“They might have an inkling, but we’ve never actually discussed it,” Asahi murmurs. “I want to be a doctor, which they’re very proud of, and I don’t want to ruin it with my...lifestyle choice. And I’m from a small town, so you know how that is.” 

“Yup.” Noya nods. “I’m sorry, though. I’m sorry you couldn’t live your truth back home.” 

“Yeah, well, it happens. World’s not perfect. I really didn’t have any other hardships to speak of growing up, so I’d consider myself lucky.” He sighs and looks at Noya a little closer. “What about you? You seem a little more confident about this whole thing.” 

“Yeah. I’ve been pretty openly bi since middle school. No one really cared. I’ve only been called a fag, like, twice.” It’s Noya’s turn to be nonchalant now.

Asahi’s frown comes quickly. “Oh. I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be. I’m not.” Noya sighs and smiles. It really doesn’t matter much to him, especially not now, because he’s never going back to his hometown. He’s gotten the hell out of there and he’s never looked back. 

“Were your parents...were they supportive?” Asahi asks in a quiet voice, almost asking for advice.

Noya almost laughs out loud. “Um, I’m gonna say  _ yeah _ , but I don’t think my mom even knows where I am right now, and I’m pretty sure my dad doesn’t know I exist.” 

Asahi’s eyes widen. “Oh. God. Jeez, I’m really sorry—” 

“Don’t even worry about it.” Noya lays a hand on his thigh, and that seems to quiet him. “My mom was always too wasted or strung out to notice what was going on, so I lived with Tanaka and his sister basically all through high school. We were really close anyway, so it wasn’t like it was some...big traumatic experience. But that’s why Tanaka and I are still living together. He’s my brother. And Daichi and Suga help me with the adult things, like my financial aid and taxes and stuff. So it’s not a sad story.” 

“Still, though. I’m sorry.” 

There’s genuine pain in Asahi’s eyes. When Noya tells people about his living situation, he’s usually met with pity and thinly-veiled disgust, not actual  _ compassion _ . People assume that’s why he’s such a player, a partier. That he’s damaged or some shit, or an addict. He doesn’t want Asahi to think that of him. But maybe he won’t have to worry about that.

“I told you, it’s okay. I’ve got a family, and I’ve never had to deal with my parents not accepting me.” Noya smiles brightly to try and bring a grin on Asahi’s face.

There’s no big grin in return. “Still. Just...y’know, if you need anything, let me know.” 

“I will. Thanks.” Noya bumps his shoulder. “Enough with the heavy shit, now. I picked up some stuff at the dining hall. It’s like, four PM, and I bet you haven’t eaten lunch.” 

Asahi blushes. “You’re not wrong.” 

“‘Course I’m not.” Noya pulls the takeout container from his backpack. It’s filled to the brim with cookies. “Not super healthy, I know, but I didn’t know what you liked and I figured I couldn’t go wrong with this.” 

“Again, you aren’t wrong. Thank you.” Asahi takes a chocolate-chip one and munches on it quietly. 

“And. I promised you Hozier.” Noya, cookie hanging halfway out of his mouth, pulls his guitar out of the case. “So Hozier’s what you’ll get. It was what you were going to get anyways. He’s my favorite to play,” he admits.

“I’m excited,” Asahi smiles with an endearing amount of cookie crumbs on his lips. 

“Hopefully I won’t disappoint,” Noya murmurs, but he’s grinning. He picks at the strings quietly, tuning up the D. It always slips in the fall, when the temperatures change. “Okay. Here we go.” 

Asahi, textbook completely abandoned, watches Noya closely as he strikes up the starting Gs of ‘Like Real People Do.’ It’s a familiar melody, a hint of syncopation when he hits the hammer-ons and pull-offs, and his hand slides deftly up and down the fretboard. 

The verse tab follows the melody pretty closely. Noya almost hums quietly to himself to keep on track, and Asahi’s eyes close softly. Noya can tell he’s singing the song in his head, the way he smiles a little wider on the accents. His eyes pop open in surprise whenever Noya adds in an embellishment or harmony, and Noya remembers why he loves playing to begin with. 

The song floats to a stop with a G chord. Asahi’s eyes drift open again, and he claps quietly. “Wow. You’re really good. Like,  _ really _ good, Nishinoya.” 

Noya might have blushed a bit. “Thanks, but it’s really nothing. This is just me messing around.” He picks a few random notes, feeling the cold metal frets in his small hand. 

“I wouldn’t discount yourself. You’ve got real talent.” 

Noya rolls his eyes and smirks, saying, “ _ Now _ who’s flattering me?” 

“It’s not flattery if it’s just the truth,” Asahi counters. 

Noya laughs. “Besides, you’re one to talk. You discount your talent for volleyball.” 

Asahi frowns gently. “That’s because volleyball and I...have a complex relationship. But I do have fun with it.” He clearly doesn’t want to elaborate, continuing with, “There’s another practice tonight, right?” 

“Actually, no. Suga told me before I got here that the gym and the beach court were booked up, so we’re not having practice tonight.” Noya sighs. “Which sucks, because I really wanted to work on receiving more of your straights.” 

Asahi grins—Noya made him grin. He’s grinning about Noya.  _ Yes.  _ “There’s always time for that.” 

They share a little moment, smiling at each other dumbly. Noya feels the sudden urge to kiss him.

He’s rudely interrupted when Asahi kisses him instead—quick, hesitant, until Noya pushes his guitar away and reaches up to hold their heads together, running his sore fingers through Asahi’s soft hair. They continue, much longer than last night, but still just as sweet. There’s a bit of tension in Asahi, probably because they’re in public, but it doesn’t dominate the situation. 

Asahi’s stepping out of his comfort zone for Noya. He can feel it, and it’s not painful. It’s strengthening, it’s  _ growth _ .

Can Noya do the same? Can he trust someone like Asahi is trusting him?

Will Noya break Asahi’s heart? 

Noay holds these thoughts in his head, pushing a little further into the kiss until they break, cheeks flushed. 

“Where’d that come from, huh?” Noya murmurs as he lets his hand drift from Asahi’s hair down to hold his hand.

“I was getting even with you, after last night. Now we’ve settled the score,” Asahi explains, voice soft. 

Noya examines him for a few more beats, but brings out his guitar again. “For that, you get another song. How’s ‘From Eden’ sound?” 

A shy smile tugs at Asahi’s lips. “It sounds perfect.” 

Noya goes on to play, fingers sliding with new invigoration. And if he sings the one line, “‘ _ I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door _ ,’” well, then, it was the truth, wasn’t it?

* * *

They continued on like that for a while, Nishinoya strumming out melodies that Asahi sometimes knew and sometimes didn’t. All good things had to come to an end, and Noya left when the autumn sun fell and the quad grew quiet. With practice canceled, Asahi could have just gone back to the dorm (and probably should have, for his GPA’s sake), but of course, he found himself at the station again. Hinata and Kageyama needed  _ serious  _ studying. 

“Kageyama, this one’s for you,” Asahi assigns. Kageyama perks up and glances at the whiteboard:  _ HINATA 23, KAGEYAMA 23 _ . Turning the flashcards into a contest seemed to help them both.

“I’m ready,” he asserts, blue eyes steely. He flicks a few glances to Hinata, who looks just as invested.

Asahi reads off the card, “When differentiating between angina pectoris and a myocardial infarction, you know that: a) there is no difference between the two, b) angina pectoris is caused by physical or emotional stress, c) rest will relieve symptoms of a myocardial infarction, or d) the pain from angina pectoris is continual and will not go away.”

“It’s sure as hell not C,” Kuroo laughs, not looking up from his phone. 

“It’s not?” Hinata whispers, eyes wide.

Kuroo glares at him, then bursts out laughing. “ _ Rest _ ? You can  _ rest off  _ an MI?” 

“Shh. Let them do their own work.” Asahi shoots a disapproving look to Kuroo, who still is doubled over cackling. “Kageyama, what are you thinking?” 

“Um. B? I think it’s B.” Kageyama chews his lip. “You can rest off angina, but you can’t rest off an MI.” 

“That’s right. Good job.” Asahi changes Kageyama’s score to  _ 24\.  _ “Alright, Hinata. You arrive on the scene to discover an unconscious patient. Upon completing your initial assessment, you find the patient to be pulseless and apneic. Your next step would be to: a) begin CPR, b) give two ventilations, c) apply the AED, or d) check the pulse for another 60 seconds.”

Kuroo’s quiet on this one. Hinata needs to actually know the answer here. 

Hinata squirms. “...A.” 

Asahi shakes his head. “Nn-nn, it’s C. Go for the AED in almost every circumstance. I can see why you’d think CPR first, but you need to check to see if they’re in v-fib or pulseless v-tach so you could give a shock right away.” He reaches up and erases the board, down to  _ 22 _ . He passes the card to him to study for later.

“Dumbass. You’re gonna kill someone one day,” Kageyama murmurs darkly.

“Shut up! At least I have a bedside manner! Ukai says that’s the one thing that can never be taught, and I have it naturally!” Hinata objects. And he’s right—Hinata does have a wonderful bedside manner, while Kageyama’s is...lacking.

“Alright, alright, focus,” Asahi quells their bickering. “Kageyama, trauma question. A 27-year-old patient is involved in a motor vehicle accident. You attempt to ventilate the patient, but realize you cannot open the patient’s jaw due to trauma. Your technique of ventilating the patient would be: a) mouth-to-mouth technique, b) mouth-to-mouth and nose technique, c) mouth-to-nose technique, or d) a Combitube.”

“Ew, did someone say Combitube? I’m gonna throw up,” Bokuto groans from the next room over.

“Maybe they wouldn’t be so terrifying if you were  _ better  _ at placing airway adjuncts,” Kuroo teases. 

“It’s a hard skill to learn!” Bokuto shoots back. God, he and Kuroo could bicker just like Kageyama and Hinata...though they were always “bros” at the end of the day.

Asahi shakes his head. “Tune them out, Kageyama. What would you do?” 

“A Combitube,” Kageyama states cooly, off his winner’s high.

“No, actually. You can’t open the jaw due to trauma, remember? It’s mouth-to-nose.” Asahi changes his score back to  _ 23 _ . 

“See? Airway adjuncts are useless,” Bokuto calls back.

“Tell that to the next unconscious patient you meet, see how they feel about it. I bet if you ask nicely, their tongue will just  _ slide  _ outta the way for ya,” Kuroo jokes darkly.

“I remember! I remember the rhyme!” Hinata’s face lights up. “G-C-S eight, you must in-tu-bate!” He proclaims, voice singsong. 

Asahi decides to turn this into an educational opportunity. “Absolutely right, Hinata, excellent. Give me an example of a patient with a Glasgow Coma Score of eight.” 

He pauses. “Uh. Eyes opening to pain, that’s two, flexion away in response to pain, that’s four, and, uh, incomprehensible speech, that’s two,” he rattles off. 

“Perfect. I can tell you’ve been studying,” Asahi grins. He puts up another point next to Hinata’s name— _ 23\.  _

“H-How do you even know that?” Kageyama growls. 

Hinata doesn’t respond—he just preens under his victory. Kuroo ruffles his ginger hair. 

“Another question!” Kageyama bursts out, unable to take seeing Hinata’s praise any longer. 

“Alright, alright.” Asahi shuffles his cards. “I got a two-part question here. If Kageyama wins, then it’s over and I’m going back to the dorm, okay?” 

The two freshmen nod, though Hinata maybe looks a bit sad at the prospect of Asahi leaving. Sweet kid.

“Okay. Kageyama, when you auscultate the patient’s lungs, you hear a harsh, high-pitched sound on inspiration. This sound is called: a) snoring, b) gurgling, c) crowing, or d) stridor. You know the harsh sound is indicative of: a) complete airway obstruction, b) CHF, c) poor lung sounds, or d) partial airway occlusion.”

“Um. Okay, harsh and high-pitched...that’s stridor, and you get that with a partial airway—” 

The buzz of the dispatch interrupts them all. “ _ Campus 911 to Campus EMS, over. _ ” 

Ukai bolts out of his office, cigarette still hanging out of his lips. He clicks on the mic. “EMS here, over.” 

_ “We have a 20-year-old male with anaphylaxis, he’s already self-administered epinephrine but has shortness of breath. West Campus, dorm twelve.”  _

Asahi shoots a look at Kuroo, who’s gone completely white. They nod at each other, a quick tilt of the neck.

Ukai eyes them, responding to dispatch, “Copy that, over.” He slams the radio down. 

“Asahi and I will take it,” Kuroo proclaims without waiting for Ukai’s approval. 

Hinata seems to catch on, eyes widening. “Wait! Wait, Kenma lives in West Twelve! And he’s super allergic to peanuts! Oh, no, what if it’s him!? I’m coming, too!” 

“Kenma—wait, Kuroo, isn’t that your boyfriend? Neither you nor Hinata should be on that call!” 

Ukai barks.

Bokuto pops his head out from the corner. “Kageyama and I can take it—”

“We’re wasting time! You know he only called because he wanted me!” Kuroo suddenly explodes. 

Ukai gives in after a few tense seconds. “Tch, fine. Go. Azumane’s in charge.” 

“Alright, let’s go. Hinata, you’ll drive, Kuroo, stay in the back with me.” Asahi takes the lead, tossing Kuroo his uniform jacket. “He’s gonna be fine. It might not even be him.” 

Kuroo nods, but he’s not really paying attention. They need to go,  _ now _ . He claps Hinata on the back. Hinata shoots up from his chair, sticks his tongue out briefly at Kageyama, then follows Asahi out to their BLS ambulance (“Bessie,” Bokuto named her fondly). Kuroo lifts the garage door as Hinata leaps into the cab and roars Bessie to life; Asahi holds the door open for Kuroo, and then they’re speeding off towards West Campus.

Kuroo’s still agitated, long fingers picking at each other and drumming on his knees. “Kenma...I should have—“

Asahi cuts him off, voice soft. “Kuroo, stop. You couldn’t have done anything. He probably ate something by accident. He knew to use his Epipen and he knew to call 911. He’ll be fine.” 

“But he’s still having shortness of breath!” Kuroo almost whines. He picks too hard at his cuticle, pulling the skin down raw, and curses.

Asahi tried to be reasonable. “We’ll take care of him until he can get to the ED and get some bronchodilators. He’s gonna be fine.” 

Kuroo pauses, closing his eyes, then says, “Yeah. Yeah, he’ll be okay,” 

The air in the cabin is thick—it’s usually kind of humid in the cabin anyway, but Asahi could cut this tension with a knife. Everybody knows that you shouldn’t go out on a call to someone you know. There’s too much unnecessary drama.

...But, then again, Kenma probably  _ did _ call 911 just to get Kuroo. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have called at all, just because he wouldn’t want to go through that inconvenience with a bunch of strangers. 

The ambulance slows to a stop as Hinata parks it in front of the dorm, and Kuroo immediately launches himself out to leave Asahi on stretcher duty. “Kenma!” 

The patient in question is literally just sitting on the sidewalk, Nintendo Switch clutched in his hands. Upon first examination, he looks completely normal, and not like his life is in danger, but the empty Epipen beside him tells a different story. 

“Kenma, we’re here!” Hinata exclaims, rushing towards the couple. Kuroo was already auscultating his lungs and taking his blood pressure. 

Asahi pulls Hinata back gently. “Wait. Don’t bombard him, he might be in shock. Can you get me an NRB?” 

Hinata nods furiously, rushing off towards the ambulance while Asahi jogs the stretcher over. 

“Asahi. Hi,” Kenma murmurs. He definitely  _ is  _ short of breath—he has to pause and regain some oxygen. 

“Hey, Kenma. Can you tell us what happened?” Asahi kneels down next to Kuroo to face his patient. 

“Ate some of the cookies my RA made.” Pause for breath. “Didn’t know it had peanuts.” 

“Okay. When did you take your Epipen?” Asahi asks as he scans Kenma over. No hives—good. He must have given it to himself in plenty of time. 

“Ten minutes ago, right before I called 911.” 

“Kuroo, you got vitals—”

“No hives, pulse rapid, BP 108/79, lung sounds...kinda wheezy, but you give it a try.” Kuroo reports, moving just slightly aside for Asahi to auscultate. He presses small kisses to Kenma’s forehead every few seconds. 

“Alright, Kenma, take a few deep breaths for me if you can,” Asahi instructs, popping his stethescope’s nubs in his ears and pressing the diaphragm to Kenma’s chest. Sure enough, Asahi can hear whistling when he exhales. “Yeah, you’re wheezing a bit. Let’s get you out of here, okay?” 

Kenma nods quietly. Kuroo scoops him up with incredible grace and ease, then lays him down on the stretcher. Kenma’s breathing immediately worsens and he lets out a painful-sounding wheeze. 

“Fuck,” Kuroo murmurs, hands shaking as he lifts the head of the stretcher to assist in Kenma’s breathing. “I’m sorry, baby, your blood pressure’s a little low so I thought it would be better to lay you down.” 

“‘S okay,” Kenma murmurs, regaining his breath.

Hinata pops up next to them, oxygen mask in hand. “Got the NRB.” 

“Shouyou, hey,” Kenma smiles for the first time since they’ve gotten here. 

“Hey!” Hinata replies, bubbly, as he fits the tubing of the bask to the oxygen tank on the stretcher. He looks to Asahi. “Fifteen LPM?” 

“That’s right,” Asahi nods. Hinata turns the valve, then passes the mask over to Kuroo when he reaches for it. 

Kuroo starts to fasten it gently over Kenma’s mouth and nose. “This is just oxygen. Asahi will get a nebulizer started for you once we get in the ambulance so you can breathe easier, okay? You’re gonna be fine. I love you.” 

Kenma doesn’t question anything—he just lets Kuroo do his job. Each time Kuroo’s fingers touch him, clinical or otherwise, he seems to relax.

They look so comfortable with each other, even with Kenma in his anaphylactic state.

Will Asahi ever get that? Nishinoya...he can’t figure out if he’d get like this with him. Obviously, he’d never want him as his patient, duh, that would be horrible and cruel of him to consider, but...to let Asahi take care of him, that would be nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> am i foreshadowing there? probably. just let that sink in. 
> 
> yes, kenma probably would have just sat in his dorm and "waited for it to pass" if kuroo weren't on campus ems. yes, kuroo is flattered by that deep inside.
> 
> also! here are the two songs noya played! [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=97uHUyPL5dA) and [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VMx-Pua_HPc)! that last one (From Eden) is basically what I'm considering this fic's theme song, and if i can convince just one person to be a hozier stan thru this fic, then my life's work is done
> 
> thanks for sticking around here! love ya! as always drop the comments/suggestions/corrections below!!!


	5. backfiring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ah, the joy of frat parties

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls note  
> 1) the choice of sigma chi as the frat was completely random  
> 2) tw for some sexual harassment and a brief depiction of blood, but, yknow, this story is about emergency medicine, so  
> 3) i am really sorry this update is coming so late but hopefully the writing will be of better quality from now on  
> 4) happy halloween loves
> 
> and thank you for all the feedback and sweet messages! keep 'em coming i'm always struggling with characterization :-)

Even though Asahi was technically busy, the days—no,  _ hours _ —passed by slowly from Wednesday to Friday. He had to move his painstakingly-laid schedule all around to fit the volleyball team. Class, blissful practice, then his flipped-around station shift until the wee hours of the morning. Kuroo had basically moved into Kenma’s dorm to “take care of him” (and also “beat the shit out of the stupid RA who gave him the godforsaken cookies, I mean, isn’t the Resident Assistant supposed to be, y’know,  _ responsible _ ? Don’t they get  _ paid _ ?”), so there was no point in going back to the suite. Asahi has never liked being there alone; sleeping on the sofa at the station for approximately 3.6 hours was the only option. 

There were some positives, though. He got a 93 on the quiz in Orgo (though Kuroo got a 99 and reminded him of it several times, that menace). Ukai made him dinner every night this week (“You need to  _ eat _ , Azumane!”), so he saved some swipes on his meal card. He didn’t have any major trauma cases, which meant no blood, which meant no puking. And, Kenma was  _ actually fine _ , which was great, even if Kuroo dragged him to the station each day to have Asahi auscultate his lungs (“Kenma said he felt fine, but his lungs didn’t sound clear to me!”). Then he’d hang around longer to help Hinata study, which would seem uncharacteristic of him based on his shyness, but he and Hinata have some sort of special bond—something about Hinata getting lost during freshman orientation and Kenma rescuing him. 

And practice. Sweet, sweet practice. Asahi had forgotten how much he loved practice. Being on the varsity team meant practice  _ all  _ the time, which seemed highly inconvenient during freshman year, but maybe what he was missing was a tiny enigmatic libero who happened to look much, much hotter while sweaty. Said libero stuck by him almost all the way through practice, too, giving him little tips on how to receive Yamaguchi’s jump float, explaining the plays they usually do, spilling gossip about the other IM teams, cracking jokes, flirting a bit here and there. Kissing him in the locker room—passionately. Copping a few totally-welcomed feels. 

Somehow they had gotten much, much closer to each other, and neither of them cared about the pace they were going because it felt  _ good _ and neither of them wanted to change anything. They weren’t hurdling out of control. 

But practice was the only interaction they had. They couldn’t meet at the coffeehouse in the mornings because of Noya’s work-study leading campus tours. They couldn’t go home with each other because of Asahi’s late nights at the station. So, Friday was their promised night. They would stop by the Sigma Chi party, have a few drinks, say hey to Bokuto, then...well, it was a question of  _ your place or mine _ , but they hadn’t really talked about it, just  _ alluded _ to it. 

Asahi would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little nervous. But he’s always a little nervous about everything, isn’t he? Doesn’t Bokuto remind him of that practically every day?

So, he’s nervous, and he made it back to his suite for the first time in three days because he needed to raid his closet for something to wear other than workout clothes or his uniform. He’s meeting Noya at the bus stop a few blocks away from Sigma Chi in... _ two minutes ago _ .

He usually would be more organized than this, except he and Bokuto (and Kuroo, though he wouldn’t be coming to the party “because Kenma still needs me to take care of him!”) started pregaming as soon as their card hit the clock at ten. Doors open at Sigma Chi for non-members at midnight, Noya wanted to be there at 12:15, it’s 12:17 right now. 

Asahi shakes his head to test his level of intoxication and...yeah, there’s a little lag between his vision and his movement. Okay. Manageable. Liquid courage is better than no courage.

Asahi stuffs his wallet in his chinos and makes for the door, muttering assurances to himself under his breath. 

* * *

  
  


Asahi’s late.

Well, only five minutes late, but still.

**_Tanaka: is he there yet???_ **

**_Tanaka: if he stood you up bruh his ass is DEad_ **

Noya leans into the bus stop post a little harder and flicks off a speck of something from his shirt.

**_Noya: not yet_ **

**_Noya: and he’s not standing me up. If he’s not coming it’s because i forced him to go to a party he didn’t want to go to_ **

**_Tanaka: he literally said 6 hrs ago that he was excited for tonight don’t bs_ **

“Nishinoya! ‘M so sorry I’m late!” 

He snaps his head up at the sound of Asahi’s voice, panting as he jogs over...in a somewhat crooked line. But he looks amazing, even if distraught and maybe a little tipsy. The light from the streetlamp caught the edges of his jawbone, the way his lips were slightly parted.

“Woah there, Asahi. It’s okay, you’re fine.” Noya grabs his hand before he can walk right past him. “Were you pregaming?” 

“Uh, a little, yeah,” he says, a frown sagging on his features. “Bokuto, too.” 

“Well, why don’t we go join him?” Noya proposes, encouraging Asahi gently. His chest immediately puffs out and he nods, and if Noya laughs, then it was desiring of the situation.

“Y’know, the last time I was here, I was on a call. Alcohol poisoning. Hope that doesn’t happen tonight,” Asahi murmurs darkly as he gestures to the house, a brick-and-white-trimmed building that just  _ smelled _ like Natty, even from the outside. “Are you a lightweight? I dunno if I could save you in this condition, I might be kinda drunk.” He grins dopily.

_ Was he so nervous about this party that he needed to get hammered to make it easier? Was Noya really putting him in this position? He’s such a dick.  _

Noya laughs again. “I’m actually pretty good at holding my liquor, maybe unlike a certain ace we know.” 

Asahi looks at him, completely blank-faced. He blinks slowly. 

“I’m talking about you, big guy.” Noya elbows him gently and tries not to laugh too hard. “Are  _ you _ gonna be alright tonight?” 

“Oh. Oh, yeah, I’ll be fine! I sober up really quickly.” 

“Well, alright then.”

As they get closer and closer to the house, Asahi seems to retract into himself more and more. Noya’s already gathered that he’s shy, but this seems a bit darker than that. 

Noya breaks the growing silence. “What’s on your mind, Asahi?” 

“Uh—nothing,” he stammers. “Nothing, nothing, ‘m fine.” 

Noya raises a brow at him. “Now, I know we haven’t known each other that long, but that’s a whole lie.” Noya steps in front of Asahi, blocking his path to the house. He puts two hands on his chest. “Look, if it’s about the party, we can turn around right now and go hang out at my place or your dorm or hit some balls in the beach court or something—” 

“No, no!” Asahi touches the hands on his chest lightly, then gathers them up to hold in front of them, carefully and softly like you’d hold out an origami crane. Such gentleness, even while drunk. “I want you to have fun! I don’t wanna be boring. I just...can’t dance. That’s all.” 

Noya lightens slightly. “Oh. That’s all?” 

“That’s all. I’m too wasted to be worried about anything else right now.” He grins hesitantly. “You make things fun for me. You make things easier for me.” 

Noya wants to cry, or laugh, or run away, or stay forever. “I have a feeling you wouldn’t have said that to me if you weren’t in your...current state.” 

“Probably not.” 

“Maybe I should drink with you more often.” 

“Maybe.” 

And suddenly, Noya wants to get away from this stupid frathouse. He wants to go someplace quiet and soft and relaxed with Asahi, because  _ that’s how he made him feel _ , and he suddenly...suddenly doesn’t need to go to these parties. 

Then a whooping sound barrels toward them. “HEY, HEY, HEY! You finally made it! Wow! Azumane, you’re totally fucked already, this is awesome! We’re gonna have  _ so  _ much fun!” Bokuto, looking like a sweaty puppy about to go on a walk, beams at them. He points at his shirt—something from the last Sigma Chi fundraiser. “And the brothers, they love me, even though I’d never actually rush! So you get to come in for free as my  _ guests _ !” 

“For real? That’s awesome, I only had, like, ten bucks on me anyway.” Noya lets himself get a little excited. Free beer. Close dancing with Asahi because it was gonna be packed in there. He shoots a glance to his...date? Acquaintance that he makes out with? “Are you ready to go in?” 

Asahi shrugs and grins loosely again. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s do it.” 

* * *

  
  


“No, Daichi, you don’t understand. He never texted me back. He was waiting at that shady bus stop near the frathouse. He’s a tiny dude and he’s going out with a guy we barely know. And he  _ never texted me back _ .” 

Daichi, unimpressed, does not bother to tear his eyes from the TV to acknowledge Tanaka. He had come over to his and Suga’s place like he usually does when Noya isn’t around, and he’s been worrying about Noya’s whereabouts ever since his broken foot came through the entryway. “He’s probably at the party, then. You know he’s a flake when it comes to texting.” 

“With you, maybe,” Tanaka huffs.

Daichi frowns. Tanaka isn’t an insulter; he must be actually upset. “Check his snap map.” 

Tanaka’s thumbs tap on his screen, blue light illuminating his face. “‘Seen thirty-two minutes ago.’ At that bus stop.” He zooms in on Noya’s bitmoji to emphasize, shoving the phone in Daichi’s face. 

“Tanaka…” Daichi warns quietly. He’s got  _ that  _ expression on—the one where he’s all determined, eyebrows scrunched together and lips pressed shut. He’s gonna try and go out looking for him if Daichi doesn’t do something.

He slams his hand down on the couch and moves to get up. “I’m goin’, Cap. See you later.” 

“No, you’re not.” Daichi grasps his shoulder and pulls him down. “Don’t you know anyone at the party you can call to try and figure out if he’s there?” 

Tanaka gives him a look of confusion, as if that’s the most absurd thing he’s ever heard. “No? I only hang around with you guys. The dudes at Sigma Chi are pricks, anyway.” 

“Hold on, I know one of the brothers in that frat.” Suga ventures in from the kitchen, a pop-tart clutched in his fingers. “Need me to check if they let Noya in?” 

“Yeah, please,” Tanaka exhales. “You’re the best, Suga.” 

“I know.” He whips out his own phone and starts tapping away. “Guess who it is, though.” 

Daichi feels himself groan as he puts the pieces together. “ _ Iwaizumi _ .” 

“Wait, from the Kings? He’s in Sigma Chi?” Tanaka hisses. “Oh,  _ hell _ no, Suga, don’t ask him for a favor if we’re playing them tomorrow, I already promised him at the last game that I’d thrash him—” 

“Too late.” Suga shrugs; he’s not all that into the whole IM drama (which is mostly just created by Tanaka and Noya from the Crows and Oikawa from the Kings, and, by proxy, Iwaizumi, who’s actually pretty chill). His eyes dart back and forth as he reads off the screen. “Apparently he came in about thirty minutes ago with one of the brother’s friends and somebody else—I guess that’s Asahi.” 

Tanaka still looks unsatisfied. “I can’t believe Noya’s fraternizing— _ literally _ —with the enemy right now.” 

Daichi and Suga share a look. 

“It is what it is, Tanaka. Noya’s probably having a good time with Asahi, and it’s not like it’s his first time at a Sigma Chi party. Let him have his fun,” Daichi says, hoping that’s the end of the matter.

“He can’t possibly be having fun. He was all self-loathing to me this morning about how ‘I’m forcing Asahi to go’ and ‘I’m such a dick’ and ‘don’t let me fuck this up, Ryuu,’” Tanaka spews, face reddening. “He’s ridiculous, and he needs the support of his Best Friend Forever to help.” 

“So you’re going?” Suga cocks a brow. The pop-tart he had lays abandoned on the coffee table.

“Yeah, I’m goin’.” Tanaka heaves himself up onto his crutches, murmuring to himself all the way to the door. 

Daichi exchanges another look with Suga, this time more desperate.  _ Stop him?  _ He mouths. 

Suga shakes his head and holds up a hand.  _ Wait.  _ There’s a rustle while Tanaka fiddles with the doorknob, probably stuck again. 

When the door swings open with a loud, protesting creak, Suga interjects, “Are you sure he needs you to intervene? Or are you just jealous that he’s spending time with someone else and is actually heading in the direction of a committed relationship instead of relying solely on  _ you _ ?” 

Daichi tries not to gasp— _ God _ , Suga’s so scathing sometimes. It comes with being so observant. 

Tanaka, on the other hand, fumes. His mouth opens to say something, then closes into a firm line, and he storms out with a slam of the door.

“...Um, well, that didn’t quite work how I expected it,” Suga says. He picks up his pop-tart again, nibbling shyly. 

“ _ Suga! _ ” Daichi groans. “Now I’m gonna have to go get him!”    
  


Suga flops his hands down on the couch and screws up his face in confusion. “How was I supposed to know he would get mad? He usually doesn’t!” 

Daichi resists the urge to swat him. “That was too harsh and you knew it.” 

“Was I wrong, though? Don’t worry about him. He’ll come home once he sees Noya’s fine.”

“He’s got a  _ broken foot _ , Suga, what if something happens?” 

“You sound just like him!” 

“I’m going to get him before he does something he— _ damn it.”  _ Daichi stands up and looks out the window when he hears a squeal of tires—Tanaka's already gone. 

* * *

  
  


“Ah, shit, sorry, man!” 

Asahi sighs—that’s the third time someone’s spilled Natty on him tonight. Thankfully, he’s sobered up enough to not get too upset. “Don’t worry about it.” 

Noya, on the other hand, isn’t so calm and sober. “Watch where you’re going, Tendou! Jesus!” He spits at his side. 

“Sorry, sorry!” The guy—Tendou—slinks off, his shock of red hair almost iridescent in the low lights. He turns around, eyes alight, and screams over the music, “Good to see you, Noya! Can’t wait to crush your spirits tomorrow!” 

Asahi looks to Noya, deep into a nasty frown. “Who’s that lovely character?” 

“Satori Tendou. He plays for the Eagles, and he’s too good of a player for me to hate him but too annoying for me to respect him.” Noya turns around, dragging Asahi by the hand. “It’s hot in here. Let’s go outside.” 

“Alright,” Asahi says, honestly relieved. The party was getting to be a bit much.

The fall air is cool against his skin when they step off onto the porch. Noya hops onto the white wooden porch railing and Asahi leans against it next to him, unsure if it could support his weight. 

“So, the tourney tomorrow. Will we play Tendou’s team?” Asahi grins and tries to make conversation.

Thankfully, Noya’s stormy mood seems to have subsided. “If we win against the Iron Wall and then the Kings, yeah. Well, assuming the Jaguars don’t beat them in the first round, which happened once.” 

“So you think the Eagles are the top seed?” Asahi’s getting engaged now—volleyball talk always settles him. 

“Absolutely. They always win the Fall Tourney.” 

“And us? The Crows? Have we ever won against them?” 

“Nope.” Noya grins and looks towards the stars, then into Asahi’s eyes. “But this’ll be the year. With you, nothing can stop us.” 

“You have such high expectations,” Asahi murmurs and sips at his beer, lips teasing the plastic rim of the solo cup. It’s warm and stale from the keg. 

Noya leans his head against Asahi’s shoulder as he keeps looking at the sky. “With good reason. You’re fuckin’ amazing on the court, Asahi. I can’t believe you sometimes.” 

Asahi wraps an arm around him, partially because Noya is drunk and might fall off the railing and partially because he’s also warm and comforting. 

Noya snuggles into the hold, rubbing his nose against Asahi’s cheek and kissing him by his ear. “Is it too early for me to be in love with you, Asahi?” 

Asahi feels the blush creep up his neck. “You’re drunk. You aren’t in love with me.” 

“Yet. Just you wait.” Noya’s kisses get closer and closer to Asahi’s mouth until they meet. 

It’s nice for a bit as they enjoy each other, both exchanging their stale-beer tastes. But then Asahi’s phone begins to buzz. 

“Sorry,” he murmurs as he pulls away to read the message. 

**_Bokuto: yo azumane medival emergemcy_ **

**_Boktuo: one of the bros got a puece od bwwr bottle in his leg_ **

**_Boktuo: come hslp can’t dp it hands shaky_ **

**_Bokuto: on thrd flr_ **

“What does that even say?” Noya, over his shoulder, squints. “‘Piece of beer bottle?’”

“I guess so.” Asahi pockets his phone. “I’d better go help. Bokuto’s obviously too drunk to handle it. I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry, I’ll come with you!” Noya hops down from the railing. “I wanna see you do your EMT thing again!” Noya thumbs at Asahi’s shirtsleeves, running his small, beer-sticky fingers over his biceps. “Se-xy,” he whistles. 

Asahi’s furious blush doesn’t back down. It isn’t the first time Noya has expressed interest in his biceps, but, regardless, Asahi’s flustered. “Alright, well, if you want.” 

Again, Noya’s grabbing him by the hand and leads the way for him.

* * *

  
  


The drive over to Sigma Chi is short and aggressive. Tanaka runs every red light and doesn’t yield for pedestrians. He could have easily gotten a reckless driving ticket, nevermind the fact that he shouldn’t even  _ be  _ driving with his foot in the boot. 

At the first open spot along the sidewalk he sees, he shoves his and Noya’s sedan into a parallel park. Muttering to himself, he grabs his crutches and makes for Sigma Chi, aglow and vibrating with loud pop music. 

He’s  _ not  _ jealous of Asahi. Tanaka specifically wants Noya and Asahi to be together because it would be  _ good for Noya. _

But Noya hasn’t been spending a ton of time with him lately. He’s been busy with his work-study at the Admissions office, or busy at classes, or busy with Asahi. Tanaka hasn’t been all that busy. He can’t go to the gym to blow off steam like he usually does, he can’t go hit volleyballs, and he can only bother Daichi and Suga so much before one of them (usually Daichi, tonight Suga) gets pissy. 

It was only a week, but Tanaka wanted his best friend— _ brother _ —back. He wanted tonight to be spent with James Bond movies, greasy takeout, teasing him about the “Ran Me Over Incident,” facetiming Saeko, and, finally, pestering each other about going to bed until they both fall asleep on the couch.

Also, he only trusts Asahi so much. If Noya’s wasted and Asahi tries to take advantage of him, well...there’d be hell to pay, and Tanaka can still beat someone up with only one foot. 

With these twisted thoughts in his head, Tanaka trudges towards Sigma Chi, knowing he looks like a dumbass with his crutches but pushing along regardless.

Imagine his surprise when he spots Asahi and Noya, backs toward him, kissing on the porch. They look at Asahi’s phone for a bit, and then Noya pulls him inside playfully.

_ He’s fine.  _ Whew.  Asahi clearly is the submissive one in this situation. Noya was smiling. Everything’s fine. 

Fuck, maybe Suga  _ was _ right. He starts heading back to his car; he's got some apologizing to do when he gets home. 

“Get  _ off  _ me!” 

“Aw, c’mon, babe, don’t be like that—” 

“I said  _ get off _ !” 

Tanaka whips his head around towards the sound—at the bus stop stands a girl and a dude who Tanaka can already tell is scrawny and ugly just by the tone of his voice. The dude keeps reaching for her hand, her hip, her shoulder, until he finds purchase and pulls her closer.

The girl Tanaka recognizes—Kiyoko, from Anatomy and Physiology. Kiyoko, the girl Tanaka keeps raving about to Noya, Daichi, and Suga. Kiyoko, the girl of his  _ dreams _ , is being harassed by some douchebag.

Tanaka starts moving toward them—he’s got two metal poles that he can make quick use of. 

“Kiyoko, you’re so  _ stubborn _ . Just let me walk you home.” 

She pulls away again. “I’m taking the bus. Leave me alone, please.” 

“Wouldn’t you rather—”

“Didn’t you hear her the first time? She wants you to leave her  _ alone, _ ” Tanaka butts in. As soon as he can get close, he pushes between the two of them, making way with his crutches. 

“Who the hell are you?” Douchebag huffs. He tries to push against Tanaka’s shoulder, but he doesn’t budge.

“I’m just somebody with decency. Let her be.” Tanaka stands solidly between the two of them. He looks over his shoulder briefly at Kiyoko, willing her to  _ leave, get outta here _ . 

Douchebag snarls, “Kiyoko, this a friend of yours? You whore, I knew you were seeing other people—” 

Tanaka cuts that sentence right off by slamming the hard rubber end of his crutch into Douche’s foot. He yelps and pulls his foot back immediately.

“Go, before I call the cops and get you suspended for sexual harassment.” Tanaka leers at him, daring him to come forward. He looks like a prick, wearing a preppy little pullover and an expensive watch. Damn city boy. 

His face twists into a scowl and he throws up a rude gesture. “Fuck you both. Kiyoko, I can’t believe I wasted my time on you. Dirty whore.” The guy moves off, hands shoved into his pockets as if he didn’t care to begin with. 

Tanaka immediately turns around, cocking his head to indicate Kiyoko should follow him. “You can’t wait here for the bus, it won’t come around for another fifteen minutes. We need to get some distance from him.” 

“I—thank you. I’m sorry I put you out,” she says, clearing her throat, but her voice is thick with emotion. She keeps pace with Tanaka as he ups his speed on his crutches.

Tanaka shakes his head. “No, don’t thank me. I was serious when I said I was just being decent.” 

“You didn’t have to, though,” she protests quietly. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I did.” Tanaka looks around, seeing they’re a significant ways away from the bus stop and closer to his car, and decides it’s okay to stop—his arms were getting tired anyway. “I’m Ryuunoske Tanaka.”

“Kiyoko Shimizu,” she reciprocates. A flash of recognition lets her eyes blink. “Wait, are you in A&P?” 

Tanaka jolts— _ she noticed him? _ “Y-yeah, I am. Exercise Sci major.” 

“Same.” She smiles, small but brilliant considering the situation they were just in. 

They spend a moment just...looking at each other as if there were something more significant to what just happened. No sparks fly, no mariachi bands play, but there’s something.

Tanaka shakes himself off. “Um. Where were you headed? I can call you an Uber.” 

“My dorm,” she winces. “But, uh, he lives there.” 

“Oh, hell no, then, I can’t sleep tonight if I know you’re back there,” Tanaka bursts out. “Do you need someplace to crash?” 

“I...I really don’t mean to impose...”

“You’re not imposing. My roommate’s out tonight and I have an excellent couch.”  _ Did you just say you have an excellent couch? That couch is mediocre at best. Who even says that? You sound like a perv. _ “I live in the apartment complex a few blocks from here, if you’d like that.” 

“Maybe, yeah.” She shifts her weight onto her other foot— _ nervous _ . “Usually when I need to...to get away from the dorm, I just spend the night at the Campus EMS station with one of my friends who’s in it, but I think I’ve overstayed my welcome. I’ve done it too many times now.”

“You’re kidding, Campus EMS? Do you know Asahi Azumane?” 

She blinks. “Yeah, I know him, he’s the friend I was talking about, actually.” 

“No shit! That’s the guy that my roommate is going out with tonight! He’s on my IM volleyball team.” 

“Really? Then your roommate must be Nishinoya, right?” 

“I—yeah!” 

She looks him up and down, then sucks in a short breath that almost seems like a snort. “That means you’re the one who got run over.” 

“I, uh, how does everybody know about that? That’s me.” He laughs and throws up a peace sign, hoping his furious blush is hidden in the dark light of evening. She laughs too, small and disbelieving.

The exchange is ridiculous, but in some ways, making himself look fallible and stupid might improve Kiyoko’s trust in him. He wants her to feel safe more than anything else right now, even if that is at the expense of his pride. 

When their laughter dies down, Tanaka huffs out a sigh and pinches his palm to build up courage. “I, uh. I really don’t mean to seem like I’m forcing you to come over or anything, especially considering, y’know, uh, that other guy was trying to get you to go home with him. But I promise you’ll be safe in our apartment. My neighbors are two buff gay guys who could easily beat up the entire Roman army. So they’d protect you if that douche came around. And I’m not entirely useless, too,” Tanaka rambles. “Anyway, I don’t want you to feel like I’m forcing you or...I dunno, that I have any bad intentions. I could call Azumane, you might feel more comfortable with him, he would probably let you stay at his place.” 

“No, it’s okay, he deserves a night off,” Kiyoko hums thoughtfully, maybe with an edge of concern in her voice. “As long as you don’t mind.” 

“No, of course not.” Tanaka manages a smile and glances up the street. “Um, I’m parked thataway.” 

* * *

  
  


“Azumane, there you are, I thought you’d  _ never  _ get here!” Bokuto whines and hangs off Asahi’s shoulder.

“You didn’t specify where on the third floor you were. I had to find you.” Asahi shrugs him off gently and sets him upright. “Now, what’s going on?” 

Bokuto frowns. “Well, me and my buddy Iwaizumi were playing beerpong, and then I made this super cool triple bounce shot but I jumped when I did it and I knocked over Iwaizumi and a beer bottle broke and it, uh, got lodged in his calf.” 

“Hold up,  _ Iwaizumi? _ ” Noya growls out from behind Asahi, having been momentarily distracted by the old frat pictures on the wall. “Bokuto, I can’t believe you’re friends with him.” 

“Iwaizumi’s a Sigma Chi! Of course he’s my buddy!” Bokuto’s frown deepens. “Just ‘cos you guys have some stupid volleyball rivalry doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be friends.” 

Asahi pauses from where he was about to press on towards the bathroom where his patient was supposedly located. “Wait, why don’t we like him?” 

“He’s on the Kings!” Noya proclaims, hands thrown in the air as if that’s an obvious reason for not liking someone. He switches to a drunken pout. “He’s also hot and I don’t want you getting a crush on him.” 

Asahi chuckles. “Okay, well, I need to fix him up so we can play against him tomorrow, then,” he reasons with Noya. “That okay? I promise I won’t get a crush on him.” 

Noya skirts his eyes evasively. “I guess.” 

Asahi rubs his shoulder and turns back to Bokuto. “You’re out here and not attending to him, so I guess that means the bleeding isn’t that bad.” 

Bokuto looks embarrassed for a moment—Asahi just charged him with patient abandonment—but then collects himself and slurs out, “No. I gave him some paper towels to hold against it. I just need help with debri—debr...rr…”

Asahi relieves him of his drunk pronunciation. “Debridement? Okay, yeah, I can do it.” 

Genuine concern passes over Bokuto’s drooping features. “Sorry, Azumane, I know you’re afraid of—” 

Asahi cuts him off, glancing quickly to Noya. “It’s fine. Lead the way.” 

“What do I do? Will I be in the way?” Noya seems to have caught onto the mood, maybe in the wrong way. 

“No, you’re fine. Just watch, I guess. I’m pretty sure I can handle it.” Asahi smiles reassuringly to him and presses open the bathroom door.

A murder scene lays in front of them. Trails of bright red capillary blood run in rivers on the yellowed linoleum of the bathroom, leading to the patient in question. Iwaizumi sits on the edge of the tub as more blood pools further into the basin. His hands grip around where brown-tinted glass juts out from his leg, stained with rusty blood.

Asahi gags. His fingertips tingle. His head pounds. His vision blackens.

Then it’s all fine. He’s got a job to do, so he pushes it down. “Hey, Iwaizumi, right? I’m Asahi Azumane, one of Bokuto’s friends in Campus EMS.” 

“Hey.” Iwaizumi’s face is flushed and his brows are drawn together—he may be drunk, but Asahi can’t tell at this point. “Thanks for helping. It’s fine, I coulda done it myself.” 

“No, it’s no problem.”  _ It’s a huge problem. I hate blood. I want to grab Noya and bolt.  _ “Are you feeling dizzy or faint at all, Iwaizumi?” 

“No,” he replies. “Well, I mean, not related to the blood, I haven’t lost  _ that _ much.” 

“Okay, good.” Now that he figures he won’t have to call 911 for shock, Asahi kneels down next to the brother and assesses the situation. He doesn’t have enough material to properly dress the wound at present. “Do you know if there’s a first aid kit in here?” He asks. The answer will probably be  _ no _ —in his experience, frat bathrooms are...rather sparsely stocked, so he might have to improvise.

“Yeah. It’s under the sink, I think.” Iwaizumi jerks his head towards the sink cabinet. 

“Oh, nice,” Asahi murmurs. He glances behind himself to Noya, shifting awkwardly. “Noya, could you get that for me?” 

“Sure.” He starts rummaging in the cabinet. “So, Iwaizumi, where’s Oikawa?” 

“Who called me?” Another voice joins the small bathroom over the thump of the music downstairs. “Ah, Nishinoya, the libero, and his EMT boyfriend Asahi. How nice of you to help out your enemy.” 

Asahi jolts at the  _ boyfriend _ comment (other people know Noya and I are a thing? We aren’t even really a thing, are we?) and looks up from where he was palpating Iwaizumi’s wound for a moment. “Um, hi?” 

“So, the Crows have a new ace, hm? It’s a shame Tanaka’s out, but frankly, a new challenge might be nice,” Oikawa hums. “Right, Iwa?” 

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi harrumphs, noncommittal. 

“And Iwa will be alright for the match, right?” Oikawa aims the question to Asahi. “I can’t lose  _ my  _ star ace.” 

“Ah, yeah, he should be fine. The glass piece isn’t that big, so we can just pull it out and dress it. It shouldn’t need stitches.” Asahi takes the first aid kit from Noya with a grateful smile. 

“That’s good to hear.” Oikawa sighs dramatically, but from Asahi’s experience with patient families, he can tell Oikawa is actually relieved Iwaizumi’s okay. “But.” 

“But what?” Noya prods. Asahi has to shoot him a look— _ no IM drama while I work. _

Asahi decides to ignore them for the time being and places his hands on Iwaizumi’s calf, gauze ready for applying pressure at his side. Blood runs over his nails; he wishes he had gloves right about now. “Are you ready, Iwaizumi?” He gets an affirmative grunt in response. “Alright, one, two—” 

Oikawa interrupts his countdown. “Well, Asahi might not be able to even play tomorrow, is all I was going to mention. It hasn’t been two years since he quit Varsity, so he can’t play in an IM tourney. That’s just the rules.” 

Asahi’s hand slips and he jerks the glass out harder than he meant to. Blood spurts out all over Asahi’s forearms. He grasps at the gauze, pressing it on the laceration to try to stop the bleeding, and when his heart comes down from 150 BPM, he shoots a small, testing glance at Noya. 

The purest betrayal Asahi has ever seen plays out on his features. “...What?” 

_ Damn it. _


End file.
